Making a Connection
by Sorsha711
Summary: Across a crowded coffeeshop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of OE. Post “Uncle” so Spoiler warnings if you’ve not see that episode
1. Chapter 1

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 1

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations   
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

Making a Connection, Chapter 1

Shifting slightly to glance over his shoulder, Munch quickly confirmed that the lady he had been watching for the last couple of months was at her usual table in the small coffee shop he frequented on weekends. He hadn't quite decided what it was about her that had caught his attention. She was pretty, but not truly beautiful. He had originally estimated her age to be late thirties, but he had begun to revise that upward given her choice in reading materials, the lack of a constantly ringing cell phone attached to her ear, and her quiet, yet self-assured mannerisms.

At some point in the last few weeks, he had taken an interest in the titles of the books she brought with her. Her interests seemed to span a wide range of topics… politics, history, especially ancient Egypt, classic literature, biographies, and modern novels of all genre, though she seemed to have a preference for mysteries. She seldom brought the same book for more than one weekend. He had seen the way she lost herself in her reading… devouring those books with a voracious appetite that matched his own.

On several occasions, he had ventured into a nearby bookstore looking for the titles that were unfamiliar to him. She had almost caught him sitting in a corner of the store the week before with several of those books in his lap. He admitted to himself that he had been flattered and encouraged to see her reading the flyleaf of the book he had taken to the coffee shop that same morning.

During the week, John often found his thoughts turning to her whenever he had a break in his duties. His partner, Odafin Tutuola, had noticed how distracted he had become and regularly hassled him for information. Truthfully, John wasn't sure what to say in answer to his friend's questions; he was at a loss for words to explain why he was so fascinated with this woman… a woman whose eyes he regularly found himself staring into across the crowded room. They had yet to talk and he didn't even know her name.

A second quick review of the cramped interior alerted him to the fact that 'his' table near window was occupied. Paying for his coffee and danish, he scanned the room and sighed with frustration to find that the only open spot was a table jammed in the back next to the restrooms. He hesitated taking it because he knew he would not be able to see her from that location.

Glancing back in her direction, he found her gaze had lifted from the book she was reading to him. A small, hopeful smile gave him the motivation to approach her table. "Hi. There aren't any tables open. Do you mind if I join you?"

Her smile grew a little more certain as she waved him to the seat across from her. "Of course… please. They're packed today."

Taking his seat, John nodded. "I guess the rain has driven some of their regulars inside for the morning. I'm John, by the way."

"Hi John. I'm Arwen… and yes, my father is a Tolkien fan," she smiled.

"Is that the first question everyone asks?" he inquired, hoping to engage her in a conversation before she returned to reading her book. He was finally seated at her table and he wanted to make the most of the opportunity to find out if she might be interested in going out with him… and if he was interested in asking.

Her smile turned rueful as she admitted, "Since the movies came out, yes. Before that, not everyone got the reference. Then I had to try and explain it to people that knew nothing about his works. My brothers' names are Elrond and Aragorn, so we suffered together. My older sister is the only one with a 'normal' name."

Smiling, he observed, "You sound jealous. Arwen is a lovely name."

"Try telling that to a child that was regularly teased." Returning his smile, she added, "At least my brothers could easily shorten their names to Ron and Ara. I refused to be Winnie. Imagine the Pooh jokes!"

Grinning, John noted, "I can. Since you seemed to expect me to recognize the names, I have to ask… do I look like a Tolkien fan?"

Tilting her head to study lanky man before her, she finally nodded. "Yes, you do. Am I wrong?"

"No, I've read all of his works… several times in fact, but I didn't think I looked the part," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Are you a fan?"

"Did I have a choice?"

Chuckling, he commented, "You could have hated them as a form of rebellion?"

"Nope, that's Ara. Ron and I are devoted fans," she admitted. "Besides, once I got past grade school, my name has always served as a good conversation starter."

"Your suit the name," John offered, hoping she would be receptive to his flirting.

A faint blush swept over her features. "I wish! I have no self-delusions about my looks and I'm blond to boot. I know I'm not what Tolkien described."

Reviewing her features from his closer vantage point, he silently acknowledged that, while she wasn't beautiful, her features were more than simply pretty. Her clear grey eyes sparkled with life, hinting at an active mind and quick wit. She had a warmth... a glow about her that fit nicely with his mental images of the ethereal elves of the classic books. "I disagree about that… but Galadriel might suit you better."

Her rich laughter made him smile with genuine pleasure, something he rarely did anymore. He also noticed that it drew the interested attention of more than a few of the men in the coffee shop. He felt a thrill of excitement course through his system as her focus remained on him.

Still smiling, she pronounced, "That would have been fun… an elf-witch of great power and legend! I was always rather unimpressed by the limited role Tolkien gave Arwen. She was more interesting in the movies, but I have to be careful not to let the purist hear me say that!"

Chuckling, John teased, "So, you crave power?'

Grinning, Arwen retorted, "No more than the average immortal!"

"You're an immortal?" he asked, leaning forward to whisper, "Will you disappear in a puff of smoke if I turn my back?"

"I wasn't planning to, but if you hinting you want the table all to yourself…" she retorted, an unmistakably flirtatious grin lighting her face.

"That's the last thing I had in mind, I promise!" Tilting his head to watch her over the rims of his glasses, he pressed, "So, are you immortal or a mere mortal like the rest of us?"

"I'm an immortal spirit temporarily inhabiting a mortal body… like the rest of us," she replied, holding his gaze. "If I turn my back, are you planning to disappear in a puff of smoke?"

Smirking, John settled back in his chair. "I'm enjoying a cup of coffee in the company of a beautiful immortal spirit. Why would I be so foolish as to leave so soon?"

Her bright smile made his breath catch. In the weeks to come, he slowly began to realize that her smile had reignited a fire within him that had nearly burned out… smothered by too many failed relationships, the horrors he saw every day at work… the loneliness and private fears that had been swamping his spirit for years. For the first time in a very long time, John let himself begin to want… and to hope.

-----


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 2

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations   
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

Making a Connection, Chapter 2

"So, what are you reading this week?" John asked, oblivious to how telling his question was. He had all but confirmed her secret suspicion he had been watching her as closely as she has been watching him.

"A biography of Thomas Jefferson," she replied, handing him the book for closer review. "I love biographies."

"So do I. Why Jefferson?" he asked, hoping to keep her talking. There were few things he enjoyed more than a good conversation… at least among the activities appropriate for a public place with someone he'd just met. He loved long, flowing exchanges that began at point 'a' and meandered all over the map, ones that had no real endings. None of the people that shared his daily life shared this passion. They tended to have tunnel vision when they were working a case and avoided idle conversations.

John was just the opposite. He needed to talk to keep his thoughts flowing freely and his emotions in check. Some of his clearest insights came while he mentally juggled two topics… one outwardly expressed in a conversation… or an angry rant, the other silently turning over and over in the back of his mind until he found the answers he needed. The more difficult the case, the more he needed an outlet for the churning emotions that simmered just beneath the cynical facade he presented to the world.

Fin regularly claimed that what John really needed was to get laid. While his only response to those semi-serious digs from his partner was a disdainful glare, John knew there was more than a little truth in them; that made them all the more irritating. In the past, he had settled for brief affairs and the occasional one-night-stand as a way to vent those energies when he was not in a more permanent relationship. Not long after his fiftieth birthday, he had come to the conclusion that those two options were more depressing than satisfying. He needed more, but had largely given up hope of finding it.

While he knew he was lucky to have found several close friends among the ranks of his co-workers, John missed having someone to fill the void in his private life. To his cautious amazement, his senses were humming with excitement as he waited for Arwen's answer. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this way and he found himself hoping his instincts were right about her.

"I've always felt Jefferson was one of the most fascinating, yet disappointing figures in American history," she offered, watching as he began to flip through the book. "I picked this one up a few weeks ago and decided to start it last night. It received pretty good reviews… is supposed to offer new insight into his character. So far, it's a rehash of other books I've read."

Intrigued by her comment, Munch glanced up from his review of the book's flyleaf to ask, "Disappointing? Jefferson drafted the Declaration of Independence, was our third president… founded a major university… was a scientist, inventor, scholar, diplomat. Most people consider him a Renaissance man."

"Maybe, but his private life never lived up to his public image," she countered, relieved to have found a topic that seemed to interest him. "It isn't enough to say something is true or right if you ignore it in your own conduct. In some ways, a hypocrite is worse than someone without principles."

"You may be right in that; at least, the person without principles isn't pretending to be something he's not," Munch replied, settling back to enjoy their conversation. "And they can't disappoint you because your expectations are low to begin with."

Nodding, she added, "It isn't so much that Jefferson had feet of clay, but that his private life made a lie out of his own words. He owned slaves, but wrote 'all men are created equal'. He made one of his slaves his mistress… fathered her children, but left them all trapped in a life of slavery. His own children! How could any parent do that?"

Remembering a quote from Jefferson, he offered, "I tremble for my country when I reflect that God is just, that His justice cannot sleep forever."

A pleased smile greeted his words. "Exactly. How can a man that could say that about slavery own slaves? He knew it was wrong and understood that the country would pay a high price for allowing slavery to survive its founding. He as much as predicted the Civil War, for God's sake!"

Smiling back, he offered, "So you don't buy the argument that he was a man of his times and…" falling into the conversation as easily as if he had known her for years.

-----

The early breakfast crowd had given way to the late lunch crowd before either took notice of the time. A sudden silence descended on the table as they realized just how long they had been talking… how easy it had been. Both had kept a mental scorecard, checking off interests they had in common and issues that they wanted to debate further if their morning coffee turned into more. The morning had been the most enjoyable either had had in a very long time and neither wanted it to end.

Suddenly unsure of herself, Arwen admitted, "I didn't mean to take up your entire morning, John. I'm sure you had better…"

"No, I had nothing planned. I enjoyed our conversation a lot more than doing laundry or running errands," he insisted, relieved that she didn't seem to regret how much time she had spent with him. "I hope I didn't keep you from anything."

"Nothing that can't wait. I had been thinking about going over to the Met to see their new exhibit, but it will be there until January. I can go another time," she replied. "All I really have to do is run by the bookstore down the street to pick up an order, but that's on my way home. I told Phil I'd be in today."

"I like that store. It's small enough to feel comfortable, but big enough to have a great selection." Grinning he added, "Phil seems to share my tastes in reading material because I can usually find what I'm looking for there. I'm not sure if that makes him strange or brilliant!"

"Maybe both?" she teased. "If you're not in a hurry, I was thinking about getting a sandwich…"

"Great idea!" Rising, he asked, "What can I get you? You save our table and I'll brave the line."

"A chicken salad on wheat," she replied with a smile, reaching for her wallet. "Here, let me…"

"No, my treat," he insisted, hoping he could then count this as a date. "You want another coffee… or tea?"

"Hot tea would be nice… green or white. We drank a lot of coffee this morning, so I better slow up on the caffeine," Arwen smiled, mentally shifting the morning out of the 'casual encounter' column into 'first date'. /First date with another to follow… I hope!/

"I drink caffeine all day at work, so I can stick to 'high-test' and not feel it too much." Grinning, he added, "My partner rags me all the time that I might sleep better if I cut back a little. He's as opinionated as I am."

John turned to join the milling line waiting to purchase their lunch when his words hit him. /Damn! I hope she didn't think I meant life-partner!/

Discretely watching him take his place in the line, Arwen mused/So, he is a cop. I was pretty sure that was a badge I saw when he opened his wallet to buy his coffee. I'd like to ask him about his work./

/I'd hate to lose the momentum we've got going by her misunderstanding what I meant. I want the chance to get to know her better. How can I make it clear Fin is my police partner? This morning was even better than I had been hoping./

/It's been driving me crazy trying to figure out a way to strike up a conversation with him. It's such a relief to have that out of the way and to discover I like him… a lot! I don't want to put him off by seeming too eager./

/I wonder what she does for a living? Talking about work would be the logical next topic, so…/

/I hope I won't sound too boring if he asks what I do. Not many people find economics all that exciting. Compared to police work…/

/She's already mentioned the bookstore, so I could suggest walking there with her after lunch… maybe get up the nerve to ask for another date. I wonder what exhibit she wants to see at the Met? I think there is a new show from the collection of Ambroise Vallard. That could be good. I could suggest we meet there tomorrow and then go to dinner…/

/I wonder if he would be interested in the Vallard collection? I hate going to things like that alone and it would be fun to see it with him. He has such an off-center sense of humor! If I suggest it, he'll know it's a date. He may not think lunch is… though he seems to be enjoying himself too./

/Since lunch just happened, she may not think it's a date. If I ask, she might still say no.… though she seems to be enjoying our conversation as much as I am. Damn! I hate asking! I'm too old for this! I wonder if she's seeing anyone?/

/I never thought I'd be worrying about a first date at this point in my life. I wonder if he's dating anyone?/

/I doubt she is since she was going to the Met alone and is here every weekend. If she was dating someone, you'd think there would be some mornings spent with him, not all alone in a coffee shop./

/He always comes in here alone. That's got to mean something. If you're dating someone, you aren't likely to be free every Saturday and Sunday morning are you? He seems like someone you could snuggle up to… share the paper and a pot of coffee with on a cold morning. I'd want to linger…/

/I can't imagine dating her and not wanting to keep her in bed as long as possible on the weekends! Damn, she's sexy! Those eyes and that body! How did I ever think she wasn't truly beautiful!/

/I love his eyes! It's not that he's good-looking exactly… well, he is, but not movie-star handsome. He's fascinating to watch and talk to and… he's just very sexy!/

/How do I ask…/

/I hope he wants to see me…/


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 3

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations   
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

Making a Connection, Chapter 3

"I love the potato salad here," Arwen commented, taking a second bite. "It has a little tanginess. I've never liked the recipes with sweet relish in them."

"I know the kind you mean. I used to live in Baltimore and I avoided the places that served the sweet type." Looking up after taking a bite of his sandwich, he observed, "You must have lived in the South at some point to have that strong an opinion. That seems to be a regional preference."

"My father was in the Navy and we traveled a lot when I was a child. I went to high school in Charleston, SC. Daddy finished his tour at the Navy base there. My folks loved the area and stayed after the base closed," she replied. "Mom's family is from Savannah, so it was a logical fit."

"Is your father a southerner too?"

"Does southern California count?" she teased. "He grew up near LA. I used to love visiting my grandparents. They owned an orange grove and I loved helping them, but they are both gone now. Dad sold the grove and built their dream house at Wild Dunes. How about you? Are you from Baltimore originally?"

"In part… my father's family all lived in the area around Pikesville outside Baltimore, but my mom is from New York originally. I spent my summers with my grandparents… they lived on the Lower East Side, so the City feels as much like home to me a Baltimore," he replied.

"How did your parents meet?"

"They met at a dance while he was waiting to be deployed during World War II. They fell in love at first sight and got married before he shipped out." Taking a sip of his coffee, he concluded, "When he got back, he wanted to go back to Pikesville. Mom hated it… she has the typical New Yorker's attitude that the rest of the country is a cultural wasteland, but she went. They loved each other passionately… and fought with just as much intensity. It was never boring in the Munch household."

"My folks were just the opposite. Mom knew exactly how to manipulate Daddy and he always gave into her demands. He put her wishes before every other consideration… us, his career." Sighing, she added, "He likes to blame Navy 'politics' for the fact he never got his final bump to full Admiral, but he has no one to blame but himself. I'm actually rather amazed he made it as far a he did given some of the foolish things he did to make Mom happy. In any case, they never fought; Mom just pouted and turned on the tears until he gave into her demands."

"And you resented that?"

Pausing to take a bite of her sandwich, she considered his question. "I did… still do, I guess. Even as a child I could see what she was doing and it made me so mad that he didn't… it undermined my respect for him. Dad is brilliant and a natural leader until Mom enters the equation. Then it's all about Clair's agenda… Clair's desires."

"I know we just met, but that doesn't seem to be your style. You must not take after her," he noted. "Are you more like your father?"

Frowning, she admitted, "No, I think I'm more a mix of my grandparents. I was shuffled back and forth between the two sets for several years while Daddy was stationed in Yemen. I loved being with them, so it wasn't a hardship."

"Just you?"

"Yes, I'm the youngest. When his orders came down, Mom played the helpless Southern Belle and Dad lapped it up with both hands. 'But Russell, my love… how will I manage? I'll be so lost without you.'" Frowning, she added, "Her final line was, 'Arwen and the boys are such handfuls!'"

Rolling her eyes, she concluded, "Imagine fluttering eyelashes… a few fat crocodile tears and you'll get the picture. I was sent to 'visit' my grandparents and my brothers went to military boarding school. Our older sister, Karen, was already in college, so she's the only one that didn't get shuffled around to suit Mom."

"He fell for that?" John grinned. "You must be exaggerating!"

Holding up her hand, she offered the Girl Scout pledge. "Honest. Her exact words! It turned out to be a wonderful experience though. Both sets of my grandparents were solid and down-to-earth. I was never interested in playing mind games or using tears to get my way, so it was a relief not to be thrown from one emotional scene to another. I hate high drama for drama sake, but my mom thrives on it. My older sister is just like her… so is Ara. Ron and I used to band together to survive the storms."

"Are you close to them… your parents, I mean?" he asked, accepting the pickle from her plate.

"No. I love them, but… I honestly can't say I like them as people very much. They didn't approve of my choices… especially my choice of a husband. I refused to let Mom run my life like she does my sister and brothers', so I'm the bad seed," she admitted, a rueful smile taking the edge off of her comments. "What about you? Are you close to your folks?"

She didn't miss the tightening of his features and upper body as the question left her lips. Before he could answer, she reached over to cover his hand. "I'm sorry, John. I spoke out of turn. Forget I asked, OK?"

John held her gaze for a moment before he felt his shoulders relax. To his surprise, he found himself answering. "My dad died when I was a teenager. I have a lot of unresolved issues with him that time never got a chance to untangle."

"I'm sorry. How old were you when he died?"

"Thirteen." Hesitating, he found himself admitting a secret pain that he had only shared twice before. "He had read me the riot act one night … whipped me with his belt for being a wise-ass. He wasn't one to use physical punishment, so I was really mad like only an adolescent boy can get. Anyway, I yelled at him… told him I hated him. That was the last time we spoke."

"Oh, John! I'm so sorry!" she gasped, squeezing his hand.

In a bare whisper, he added, "He… killed himself the next day."

Horrified, she clutched at his hand tightly needing to offer what comfort she could. "I… you don't talk about this do you?"

Looking up, John fell into the warmth of her eyes. "No. This is only the third time I've ever told anyone. I know… intellectually at least, that what I said didn't cause him to kill himself, but… it's haunted me for years."

They were silent for several minutes as she gave him time to regain control of his emotions. In a voice still ragged around the edges, he continued. "Anyway, my Mom tried to control everyone in my family too and, like you, I was the one that rebelled against her. Bernie, my kid brother, is the good son… her baby. She used to blame me for what my father did… not directly, but in hundreds of not so subtle ways. She's in a nursing home in Maryland and I go to see her a few times a year, but… our relationship is not what it should be."

Her hand still covered his. "I'm sorry that I brought up such a painful topic, John."

Smiling faintly, he suggested, "Maybe I need to talk about it more. Keeping it bottled up inside for forty years hasn't helped me get over it."

"Still, it was wrong of me to put you in the position of discussing something so personal with someone you just met." A small smile accompanied, "If it makes you feel any better, I can't believe I'm talking this freely either. I can't remember telling anybody the things I've told you!"

"This may sound odd, but it doesn't seem like we just met," John observed, turning his hand over to take hers in a gentle grip. "I don't remember ever feeling as comfortable having a conversation as personal as this one with many people. Maybe I just sense you understand what it means to be the one that rebelled… that pulled away from your family. I feel guilty and yet… I don't know how I could have done otherwise. Does that make sense?"

Squeezing his hand again, she nodded, "Yes, it does. No pressure, but I'm a good listener. I don't have answers for you, but I can listen while you find your own. I've had to do that myself… enough to make my peace with the past. Talking helped me sort out what bothered me."

"And you found a good listener to help you sort things out?" he questioned, curious to find out who had provided that support.

Sighing, she nodded. "The Marines provided me with a counselor after my husband was killed and I will forever be grateful for Dr. Morrow's help. I didn't realize how much anger and resentment I was carrying around until then. My sons benefited from that. It made me see myself in a new light and I was able to focus on them without my relationship with my parents getting in the way."

"I may take you up on your offer… but not today." Smiling to ease her obvious guilt that she had put him in an uncomfortable position with her questions, he asked, "So you have sons. How old are they?"

"They will turn 20 in November. I still can't believe they're grown men! Dan is a junior at Cornell in architecture and Rob is pre-med at Duke," she replied, her pride in her sons evident. "I made a point of sitting them down regularly as they grew up and urged them to be honest with me about things that bothered them. What I couldn't change, I tried to explain so they knew I had reasons for what I was doing. Now that they are older, they have both told me that helped… and that those answers now make sense. We are very close and I am very thankful for that."

"How old were they when their father died?" he asked, his tone betraying his hesitancy at bringing up a painful topic.

"They were only two. Danny was killed during the invasion of Panama in 1989. He was in the Marines." A faraway look slipped into her eyes, causing them to mist over. "He was a sweet man… loved me and the kids. He graduated near the top of his class at the Naval Academy and had a bright future ahead of him. It still makes me mad that my family never took the time to get to know him and judge him for himself rather than…"

Puzzled, John pressed, "Rather than…?"

Holding his gaze as if she wanted to judge his reaction, she stated, "Danny was black."

"And your mother didn't approve?" he asked, empathizing with her anger. His mother had never approved of his marrying a gentile. Gwen's mother had hated him as well for being Jewish… /a poor Jewish cop, not the rich doctor or lawyer she wanted for her 'baby'./. The strain had helped undermine their marriage and set a pattern for the disastrous three that followed.

"No, it was more my Dad. He likes to pretend he doesn't judge other people for their race or ethnicity, but…" Taking a sip of tea, she admitted, "He hated Danny and never gave him a chance. Mom followed his lead that one time… though I doubt she felt differently. She pulled me aside and told me she supported my choice, but 'didn't want to cause a riff' with Daddy. She patted my hand and told me a wife should always support her husband if a marriage was to be a success. What a crock! She never understood I saw through her games!"

"I know what it's like to have you family disapprove your spouse," he offered, wanting to strengthen the connection they had established. "My mother disapproved of my first wife for being a_ 'shikseh_ temptress' that led her sweet innocent boy astray. Gwen's mother hated me for being a poor Jewish cop. Their attitude helped undermine our marriage."

"First wife?"

"Another time. Do you and your sons ever see them?" John probed, moving quickly to avoid the messy business of his three other ex-wives. "It must have been hard raising them without their support."

"It was and it wasn't. At least I was spared their constant interference and judgmental attitude. Being a single mother was hard, but it was worth every grey-hair to have my sons," she insisted, pleased by his off-hand suggestion that they would be seeing each other again.

"Grey-hair? What grey-hair??" he teased. "I don't see any and I'm sitting pretty close!"

Grinning, she flirted, "Only my hairdresser knows for sure and she's sworn to secrecy!"

Smirking at her over the top of his glasses, John promised, "I guess I'll have to check more closely at some point."

"Humm… and just what are you suggesting?" she replied, fixing him with a provocative look.

A gust of laughter greeted her teasing… a second possible interpretation of his comment occurring to him. "While I admit I was hoping you might consider this a first date and go out with me again, I was referring to the hair on you head… for now!"

"That wasn't what I…" A bright red blush spread quickly over her face and throat, but he didn't fail to notice the grin had grown into a full smile as she murmured, "No, definitely not a topic for a first date."


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 4

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: John/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations   
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

Making a Connection, Chapter 4

Pleased that the issue of their lunch date had been resolved to both of their satisfaction, they fell into a comfortable silence and concentrated on eating their meal. After a few minutes, John gently commented, "You never answered my question. Do you and your sons see your family much? I don't mean to pry, but… I sense you might need to talk about the situation and vent a little."

A sad smile settled onto her features as she admitted, "It does bother me… more for them because they feel they are responsible for the strained relationship with my parents. I've tried to reassure them, but the boys still feel it's their 'fault'. In any case, we don't see them much. My folks made a show of accepting them, but Rob and Dan always knew their grandparents loved their cousins far more than they did them. That hurt more than their attitude toward me."

"They were that obvious?"

"They shower my nieces and nephews with attention… go to they visit them regularly… opened college funds for them. They never did that for the twins. I guess they thought my sons wouldn't be going to college." Turning her head to look away, she added, "When both boys earned full scholarships to premier universities, I heard Dad telling my brother-in-law that the Cornell and Duke were 'filling their quotas' by giving the scholarships to them. That was the last time I visited. I seldom call… Christmas and their birthdays if the boys urge me to make the effort. If it were up to me, I don't think I'd even do that, but I don't want to add to their guilt by cutting off all contact with them."

"How do your sons deal with that? How do you?" he asked, knowing the pain of being relegated to the sidelines by a parent that doted on a sibling and his child.

Sighing, she admitted, "It hurts, but we've all had twenty years to get used to it."

"It was always like this?" he questioned, mentally wincing that he sounded like a cop interrogating a witness.

"I saw the way Daddy would look at them when they were little… when he thought nobody was around. It bothered him to think of his daughter sleeping with a black man… having his children. It was like he blamed them for my choice. They were too much of a reminder of something he would prefer to ignore. I refused to subject them to that, so we rarely saw them even then. It's been over three years since my last visit… when I overheard the comment about the quotas. They never come to see us," she concluded, "And I have no plans to visit them."

Understanding the pain in her words, he gently asked, "Are you close to your husband's family?"

"His sister Gloria and I are very close. I got a job in DC after I finished my masters. I had gone back to school after Danny died so that I could earn a decent living and support the boys alone. Gloria lives in Arlington with her family. I don't know how I would have managed without their help." A rueful grin proceeded, "His mom only tolerating me at the beginning, but she adored the boys from the second they were conceived… would have spoiled them rotten if I had let her."

Finishing his sandwich, John settled back to drink his coffee. "So you weren't the girl she had in mind for her son? Was it because you were white?"

"No, not really; it was more a matter of the fact I interfered with her plans," she supplied, a small grin warming her face. "Danny had been dating the daughter of a close friend and Rose expected him to marry her. He had only been stationed at the Charleston base for a few weeks when we met at a Christmas Party at the 'O' Club."

Pausing to sip her tea, she recalled, "I was in my senior year at Clemson and nobody on either side approved of our relationship, so we waited until I graduated and eloped. Everybody started counting the days, sure I was 'knocked up'. Quite a few were amazed when it was three years before the twins were born! I swear Rose would still believe Danny 'had to marry me' if she hadn't been there to hold them as newborns."

Chuckling, John offered, "Did she arrive for the birth with toddler clothing?"

"I should have checked her luggage!" she agreed, a broad smile erasing the sadness from her face. "We've developed a pretty good relationship over the years, but then we had to for the boys' sake. Rose is a sweet lady and I've come to love her dearly… and I think it's mutual."

"How could she not?" he asked, a genuine smile lighting his face.

Shaking her head, she jokingly admonished, "It wasn't a bit funny for the first few years, but… when Danny died, Rose was devastated. Her husband had died of cancer the year before, so she needed us. I didn't have the heart to hold her original attitude against her… I was a mother and wife myself; I understood how much she had lost. It wasn't always easy, but Rose and Gloria… his family has become mine as much as the boys. I was one of her attendants when she remarried a few years ago."

They lapsed into silence as they toyed with the last bites of their meal. "So, what about you? Are you and your brother close?"

Sighing, John considered her question. "Bernie's ten years younger than me and was my mother's favorite from the moment he was born… he could do no wrong in her eyes. I, on the other hand, was always mouthy and opinionated. I did pretty well in school, but was always in trouble with my teachers for talking too much. Bernie was the classic teacher's pet. If I had them before, they would always say, 'I can't believe Bernie and John are brothers… they are so different! Bernie is so special.' That did a lot for my self-confidence."

"She had to drag me to the synagogue but Bernie went willingly and was always active in youth events." Lost for a moment in his memories, he admitted, "I've been married… more than once, but not to the 'nice Jewish girl' my mother expected me to bring home. I had my wild period… smoked pot, slept around, went to protests before I finally finished college… then I ditched it all and became a cop. She was furious with me for years about my 'deplorable conduct' and my 'failure to accept my responsibilities'. She never forgave me for not becoming a journalist. She had visions of Pulitzers."

"Do you regret your decision to become a cop?" she pressed. "In the end, that's all that matters."

Smiling slightly at her attempt to sooth his old hurts, he shook his head. "I love being a cop… though some cases tear me apart. I did my twenty in Baltimore, but was back on the job within a few months with the NYPD. When I was a kid, I'd always tell people that I wanted to be a detective when I grew up, but Mom would 'correct' me when she heard me. At least she can't say I didn't warn her!"

"Anyway, I'm a workaholic and my marriages all fell apart for various reasons… well, the first had a lot of help from both our mothers. None of them wanted children, so Bernie's son is the only grandchild." Holding her gaze, he admitted, "I guess I could sum it up by saying I'm a 'disappointment' and Bernie is the 'good son'."

"How does he feel about that?" she asked, fascinated by the play of emotions on his face.

"Bernie has always felt guilty because we both knew he was Mother's favorite. He became a businessman, a pillar of the Pikesville community; he and his wife own a successful funeral home." Sipping his coffee, he mused, "My brother can't wrap his mind around what I do and see, so he has always been afraid to talk about it. I went to see him the first couple of times I had a case that got to me, but… We talk on the phone a few times a month… birthdays and holidays, but we seldom get together. I see him when I visit Mother, but not much else."

"So there is no one in your family that you're close to?"

"I love my nephew and he has been up to visit me a couple of times," Holding her gaze, he added, "I've always been close to my Uncle Andrew… my father's younger brother, but he's… senile and doesn't recognize me anymore. I'm pretty much on my own."

"Did you want children?" she asked gently.

Staring out the nearby window, he finally nodded. "Yeah, I did. I couldn't admit that until recently. I told myself I didn't… that I would make a lousy father and didn't need the aggravation, but I did want to have the chance. I'm 54, so I guess my chances are behind me. Probably just as well for the kid."

"It's not too late, John. Men don't have the same age issues women do," she reminded him.

"Like I said, I'm 54, almost 55. If I fathered a child at this point, I would be an old man before he or she was grown." Forcing a smile to his face, he concluded, "In any case, it's probably a good thing for the child."

"If a child has a parent that loves them… wants them, then they are blessed with the most important gift a parent can give them," she whispered. "The rest you improvise as you go along."

His smile brightened, more from her attempt to comfort him than from any belief he would ever be a father at this point. "Interesting perspective."

Noting that she had finished her meal, he felt a moment's panic. He wasn't ready for their 'date' to end, but was unsure of how to keep it going. "You said you needed to go to the bookstore. Mind if I tag along? I usually end up there most Saturdays."

A pleased smile was his answer as she began to gather up the trash from their table. "Have you read the new…"

----

"So, you're a police detective. Do you still work in the homicide division?"

Stepping to one side to allow a group of giggling teenage girls to pass, John dipped his head to study the woman walking just in front of him. "I'm not sure you'll want to know the answer to that question."

Caught off-guard by his reply, Arwen came to an abrupt halt and whipped her head around to meet his gaze. Unable to stop in time, he collided with her back causing her to pitch forward. Acting on instinct, John quickly wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her securely back against his chest.

The moment stunned them both. They stood frozen in place as the tingling awareness that had hovered just under the surface of their morning together ratcheted up several notches. The need to snuggle back… press forward swamped their senses and made their breathing ragged.

The moment was broken as passersby on the crowded street jostled them, a few sending amused smirks at the oblivious pair. Taking a deep breath, John slowly let his hands drop away from the waist. "You OK?"

A shaky smile turned up in his direction. "I'm fine. You?"

Something in the open, genuine expression on her face broke though the last of his inner defenses. A soft, hopeful expression lit his face. "Will you go out to dinner with me, Arwen? Maybe tomorrow? We could go to the Met and see the exhibit you mentioned and then go someplace nice to eat."

Her shaky smile became bright and promising. "I'd love to John. I was trying to think of a way to suggest just that."

Accepting his arm, she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow before restarting their conversation. "Now tell me what you meant about your job."

-----


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 5

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

A/N --- The E/O part of the story is coming soon... I promise! Feedback welcome!

Making a Connection, Chapter 5

Odafin 'Fin' Tutuola studied his friend and partner out of the corner of his eye. He had known John Munch for over seven years and he knew him about a well as anyone could claim to know the man. It had not escaped his notice that Munch had been distracted… lost in his private thoughts a lot in recent weeks, but he had been particularly oblivious over the last few days. That those private thoughts seemed to be pleasant, even optimistic, was almost without precedent in Fin' memory and the sight of a happy Munch had been intriguing the entire squad all week. It was now Thursday and Fin wanted answers.

Munch's voice broke into his musings as his partner hung up his phone. "That was Warner. She has something for us on the Lawrence case."

Fin looked up in time to see John shrugging on his jacket. Fixing him with an assessing glare, Munch demanded, "Well… you just going to sit there daydreaming? Get your ass in gear, man. It's after 3 and I'd like to get back here in time to finish these dammed reports by a reasonable hour."

"Since when did it matter to you? You got a lady on the side you're not telling us about?" Fin challenged, rising to follow his partner out the door. Both ignored… or tried to, the sudden silence that greeted his questions as the rest of the squadroom strained to hear Munch's reply. Nobody missed the fact that Munch never broke stride as he exited the room without giving one.

Fin dove between the closing doors of the elevator. Studying the anger that had strung to life in Munch's brown eyes, anger that crackled despite the dark glasses he wore, Fin held up a hand in mock surrender. "Sorry, man. I was out of line."

"Yeah, you were."

"Who is she?"

The anger radiating off the man upped a notch, but Munch remained silent.

Fin waited until he had pulled their car out into the late afternoon traffic before commenting, "Did you think nobody would notice? You've been quiet all week… something that never happens. You haven't ranted about the government or the war in Iraq once. Hell, you were actually smiling yesterday while staring at a DD5. Can't see much there to make the Munchkin happy," Fin observed. "I add all that up and it makes me think you got lucky. Did you finally get laid, old man? I always suspected that was your problem. So… you got a new lady?"

"Keep it up and I'll be getting a new partner!" Munch bit out before turning to watch the traffic.

Used to the banter that routinely flowed between them, Fin was taken off-guard by the genuine anger in his friend's tone. "What the fuck is up with you?"

Whipping his head around to pin the younger detective with a fierce glare, Munch demanded, "I respect your right not to drag your private life into the office as free entertainment for the masses. I expect the same out of you! Got it or do I need to draw you a picture?"

Tutuola felt his own anger rising. "Yeah, I do keep my personal life out of the office, but you know what there is to know. I tell you when there is something to tell… and we rip with each other all the time without one of us taking it as an insult. Excuse me for thinking we were friends!"

Sighing, Munch felt his anger evaporate. Slumping slightly, he admitted, "Yeah… you're right. Sorry, man; I was out of line. It's just… it's too new and I'm afraid of screwing it up… or jinxing it if I talk about her."

"What you tell me goes not further; you know that… though Liv and Elliot are wondering too. They're your friends in case you forgot. And, Cap asked me last night what was up with you and wasn't happy to know I didn't have a clue," Fin chided. "He likes partners to know what's what so they can back the other's play if they need to. I won't bother to remind you he considers you a good friend too."

Munch was silent for another few minutes… long enough for Fin to think he wasn't going to answer, when he began. "Her name is Arwen Davis. She's an economist at the UN. She's 43… widowed with twin sons in college… gorgeous, smart, funny… and why the hell she's agreed to go out with me three times already is beyond me. We have another date tonight, so I want to get out early if I can." Leaning back against the headrest, John admitted, "I keep expecting her to politely tell me to take a hike… realize she could do a hell of a lot better than me."

"And you don't want that to happen?"

"If I thought I could make her happy, I'd grab her up and take her back to my place… bolt the door and hope like hell the world would let us be," he declared. "I've never met anyone like her and…"

A teasing smirk lit Fin's handsome face. "Damn! I never thought to see the Munchkin fall this hard!"

The fierce glare returned. "I haven't fallen anywhere!"

"Like hell you haven't!" Fin laughed. "You're in the deep end of the ocean and you've forgotten how to swim!"

Unable to argue, Munch returned to his study of the traffic.

-----

_Flashback --- the Second Date_

_John glanced to his right as they approached her building. It was pleasant surprise to discover she lived around the block from his building. His bedroom window was high enough for him to see above the line of street trees to the southern side of her low-rise in the Hudson Heights neighborhood of Manhattan. He wondered if he would be able to see her apartment from his._

_At the entrance, she shyly offered, "Do you want to come up for a glass of wine… or a cup of tea?"_

_John hoped he hadn't sound too eager when he quickly accepted her invitation. He had been looking for an opening to make a small 'move' before he said goodnight. He was hoping for a goodnight kiss to put a seal on their first official date. _

_It had been as close to perfect as he could imagine… a pleasant few hours spent wondering through the Vallard exhibit at the Met followed by a leisurely meal at a small Russian restaurant he frequented a few blocks from his… their apartments. The conversation had flowed as easily as it had the day before. They had walked slowly back to her building, their bodies brushing against each other with greater frequency… their hands finally joining. _

_/I was worried yesterday was a fluke and we would be uncomfortable… have nothing to say to each other after the intimacy of that conversation. I still can't believe I told her about Dad… but she told me a lot about her life too./_

_Holding the door of the elevator open for her to enter, he pondered/I want to kiss her, but I don't want her to think I'm expecting to sleep with her this soon. Honestly, I need a little time myself. It's been a while since I tried to date someone seriously. Another one-night stand… not that I've had many of those recently, isn't what I want./_

_Needing to be sure she had enjoyed their date as much as he had, he found himself asking, "Would you like to have dinner again later this week… maybe see a movie?"_

"_I'd love to, John. I had a wonderful time today… and yesterday," she offered, a sweet smile confirming her words._

_Following her down the hall to her door, he stood at her side… close enough to see her hands were shaking as she struggled to fit the key in the lock. Reacting on instinct, he settled his hand on top of hers. "Relax, Arwen. I'm not planning to jump you… not tonight anyway."_

_His gentle teasing had the desired effect as he felt the tension radiating from her ease slightly. Eyes still focused on trying to open the lock, she whispered, "Does that mean I don't get a kiss goodnight?"_

_Following her into the apartment, he watched as she tossed the keys into a bowl on a small table near the door. Moving to her side, he gently turned her to face him. Their lips brushed softly against each others… a soft, tentative first kiss. Her small gasp of pleasure called to him and he settled his lips over hers with greater confidence… his hands cradled her face in a gentle hold. _

_They had lingered in that kiss for a long moment before he had reluctantly lifted his head. Her eyes slowly drifted open… her hand shifting from his chest to his shoulder to the back of his neck. A gentle tug pulled him back to her for a third, deeper kiss._

_Cradling her against him as the kiss ended, he chuckled softly as she whispered, "If that's how you say good night… I can't wait to find out how you say good morning."_

-----

Turning back from his study of the traffic, Munch admitted, "You may be right. Got any swimming tips for this old man?"

Fin grinned as he watched the uncharacteristic play of emotions animate his partner's face. "Learn to float… you've got no chance battling the current, bro. You might as well settle back and let yourself go with the tide."

-----


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 6

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations   
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

Making a Connection, Chapter 6

"I take it you would rather be someplace other than being stuck in a car with me on stakeout?" Olivia asked. She hadn't missed the number of times Munch had looked at his watch in the past hour, nor had she missed his uncharacteristic lack of free flowing commentary on any and every topic that occurred to his active mind. They had not spoken in over an hour and her curiosity had finally gotten the better of her.

"You're trying to tell me stakeout duty is something you enjoy?" John groused. "I suppose following this sick son-of-a-bitch was how you planned to spend tonight… hell, most of the past week?"

Shaking her head, Olivia admitted, "Much as I enjoy your company… no, it's not. I had big plans for my evening I'll have you know… take-out Chinese and a long hot bath before going to bed early for once. What about you?"

Sighing, John looked over at his friend and partner for the evening. "I had plans… though going to bed early would have been a nice addition. I've had plans for most of this week that got trashed by this bastard."

"And tonight's plan was...?"

"I was going to the jazz concert in Central Park," he hedged.

"Alone?"

"Why all the questions, Livvie?" John asked, reaching for his cup of coffee. Grimacing to find it had grown cold, he observed, "I don't recall you taking this much interest in my social life before."

"I don't remember the last time you had a social life for me to take an interest in, John," she retorted, a teasing smile on her face taking the bite out of her comment. "So, who is she?"

"And I need to answer that because…?"

"Let's see... because I'm your friend and I care… because I've been dying of curiosity for weeks and managed to restrain myself this long… and because I'll drive you crazy before dawn by asking over and over and over…" she smirked.

Throwing up his hands in mock surrender, he offered, "OK, I give! Her name is Arwen. We met at a coffee shop near where we both live. She's a few years older than you, widowed with twin sons in college. We've been seeing each other for a little over three months now and… she's special."

"Really? How special?" she teased.

"Very special," he retorted. "And, before you ask, the going to bed early part is still on my 'wish list'. We decided to go slow and get to know each other first… build a relationship."

Holding his gaze for a moment, Olivia smiled genuinely. "I'm happy for you, John. Do we get to meet her anytime soon?"

Touched by her affectionate response, he nodded his head. "She's coming to the awards banquet with me later this month."

"Well, you are one of the honorees, so a lovely lady on your arm is to be expected," she approved. "You have warned her that it's conservative-formal, right?"

Rolling his eyes, John smirked. "I have had a date before, Det. Benson. I didn't just fall off the turnip truck from Baltimore."

Grinning unrepentantly, she retaliated, "And Charm City doesn't mean charm school, Det. Munch. I didn't want your lady friend to be embarrassed by showing up underdressed or wearing something too flashy. We've both seen that happen enough times."

"Point taken. Do you remember that woman Erickson brought two years ago? I'd still like to know what street corner he found her working! Couldn't have been a high-price one!" John agreed chuckling at the memory. "Arwen has conservative-formal running in her veins, so she's not likely to flash the table it she leans over too far."

"I didn't notice the guys at Erickson's table complaining when his date's dress went south. They seemed to think it was the highlight of the evening!" Olivia chuckled. "So… conservative-formal runs in her veins?"

Growing serious, he admitted, "Arwen's an economist at the UN. Her father is a retired Naval officer; made it to Vice-Admiral before he retired. Her mom is a Savannah deb; she's a deb herself… something she bitterly opposed, but her parents ignored her opinion. She's been to more than a few formal events, so I don't think she'll embarrass me. More likely to be the other way around."

"Impressive. How'd you land a blue-blood?"

Glaring at her, John defended, "She's not like that. She had a falling out with her family over the man she married and had to go it alone after he was killed in Grenada… raised her sons pretty much by herself. She put herself through grad school and worked two jobs to pay the bills… at the Federal Reserve during the day and as a proof-reader for a small publishing house in DC at night once her sons were in bed. She hasn't had much time for herself until now. Arwen is very real and down-to-earth. You'll like her."

"An economist? I can barely spell that much less hold up my end of a conversation about it!" Olivia joked. "OK, I'm convinced she won't show up in a micro-mini glittery tube dress and stiletto heels! Why didn't her family approve of her husband?"

Holding her gaze, he offered, "He was African-American. Her dad in particular had a problem with his little girl being with a black man and their relationship fell apart from there… not that it seems to have ever been all that good. And, before you ask, her dad is from California, so it wasn't a southern thing."

Nodding, Olivia asked. "Have you met her sons yet?"

Sighing, John shook his head. "I've talked to them on the phone, but not in person yet. Dan is in Ithaca attending Cornell and Rob is in North Carolina at Duke. They won't be coming home until Thanksgiving. She's planning a big family dinner and has already asked what I think about asking all of you to join us."

"Wow… that would be nice if she's up for that. I haven't been to a real Thanksgiving dinner in… years," Olivia admitted. "Are you two that serious about each other?"

"If she thinks I'm comfortable with inviting all of you… and your reaction tells me it's a good idea, she'll do it. She wants to get to know my friends… knows you are like family to me. Besides, I'll be surrounded by her family… including her in-laws, if you guys don't come." A small smile preceded, "And, I think we are… that serious, I mean. Honestly, I'm scared to say anything at this point for fear of jinxing it. I've never known anyone quite like her and… she's special."

"Damn… what a sight! John Munch in love!" she smiled. "I'm happy for you, John! I really am!"

Fixing her with a probing stare, he asked, "What about you? Are you and Elliot going to stop pretending you aren't crazy about each other anytime soon?"

Sighing, she sank back into her seat, leaning her head against the backrest. "I stopped pretending a long time ago, my friend… but Elliot isn't there yet. We've talked… well, sort of talked, but he's still trying to come to terms with his divorce. It won't be final for another month. His… fling with Dani hasn't helped us. He feels guilty and I feel betrayed. It's complicated."

Reaching over to lay a comforting hand on her arm, John observed, "Love always is, Olivia. Give him a little more time. Elliot never expected to be divorced… it wasn't a possibility in his mind. If Kathy hadn't made the first move and filed the papers, he'd still be denying their marriage failed… ended for all practical purposes years ago."

"I know, but his affair hurts," she murmured.

Nodding, John agreed. "Of course it does, but it's not like he went out bar-hopping, looking for a one-night stand. He and Dani were both lonely and it was convenient; the affair was a mistake for both of them. I'm not saying you don't have the right to feel hurt about it, but she's no threat to you. In some ways, he finally woke and admitted his feelings for you after he realized what he had jeopardized having that affair."

"I guess, but it's still hard. It's not that I don't trust him… I do; it's that I wanted to be the one," she whispered. "The last year was so… painful and uncertain. I guess it never entered my mind he might sleep with someone else."

"You haven't dated anyone in… two years?"

"About that. Why bother? I want Elliot. It was more frustrating than it was worth pretending I was interested enough to go through the motions of dating someone else," Olivia confessed.

Nodding, John admitted, "I know the feeling. I pretty much stopped trying six years ago… after Sara Logan was killed. I just didn't want to get hurt again, so I gave up. She and I… it might have worked."

"We all saw that," she agreed, patting his hand on her arm. "And, I expect Monique's problems didn't help either."

"Probably not. She got a raw deal… but she was in trouble. None of us saw that until that damned shrink pointed it out," John mused. "I hated to see her leave, but it turned out to be the best thing for her in the long run. She went to law school, settled down… met a great guy. Did I tell you she's expecting?"

"Really? That's great!" Olivia smiled. "When's she due?"

"End of the year. They're hoping for a Christmas baby," he offered, grinning. "It's a girl by the way."

"Give me her email address so I can send her a note."

"Sure." Studying her profile, John nudged, "We got distracted. So… how you doing, partner?"

"Honestly?"

"I'd prefer that," he gently chided.

"I'm tired of waiting, John. I know who I want to spend my life with and…" she began. "I feel I have to hide everything, pretend its all OK, and smile. Tired sums it up."

Pulling her hand into comforting clasp, John offered, "You don't have to hide what you're going through from your friends. You can talk to me anytime you want. Same is true for the rest of us. You and Casey are close. Do you talk to her?"

Grinning, she teased, "We're woman… of course we talk!"

Chuckling, he agreed. "What was I thinking to have to ask??"

"Still, it's nice to talk to a man. I need that prospective."

Squeezing her hand, he looked back at the building they were watching to see if there was any action. "Anytime, Liv, anytime."

"Thanks." Sighing, Olivia added, "Don and Fin suggested we all go 'stag' together to the banquet… not that Fin ever brings a date to that sort of thing; he hates having people speculate about his love life! I guess Don isn't serious about Sally or he'd want to bring her."

Reaching into the backseat for the thermos of hot coffee, she poured them both refills. "We didn't include you in the plan since we've been hoping you would bring your new lady. We've all been curious… except for Fin. Damn, but that man can keep a secret! We haven't been able to get anything out of him even when Don tried to bribe him with those éclairs he loves."

"Ah… I wondered why he brought the goodies from Zabars. He usually saves them for crunch time or when he's about to make one of us do something unpleasant… like dig through the cold cases files. He should have known Fin wouldn't talk… clams take lessons from Fin," John retorted, a grin on his face.

"So tell me some more about your lady," Olivia urged, fascinated by the smile her question inspired. It gave her a renewed sense of hope that things might eventually work out for her and Elliot. /If John Munch can let himself fall in love…/

"Its 'royal lady' actually… that's what her name means in Tolkien's elvish," John teased. "Arwen is a character in the Lord of the Rings books."

"Excuse me… I didn't realize you spoke elf." Chuckling, she added, "I should have known you were a Tolkien fan. I read them when I was in high school and college, but I didn't recognize the reference until you reminded me. I never found time to see the movies. I wonder if Elliot would like them? I could rent them and have a movie night for everybody."

"Sounds like fun. Arwen would love something like that. She's been looking for an excuse to have everybody over for a party or something." Looking her direction, he offered, "I wish I had a solution for your's and Elliot's problem. It sucks having to wait and be patient."

Nodding, she agreed. "Even if we finally get to the point where our relationship is more than talk, we'll still have to keep it under wraps. Neither of us wants to be transferred and if we went public, Don wouldn't have a choice but to send one of us to another division… rules are rules. As it is, he's already partnering you and me up more frequently."

"At least on stakeouts," John teased. "I think Don worries that you two will steam the windows up too much to be able to see the perps!"

Reaching over to smack his arm, Olivia pointed to a man emerging from the brownstone across from them. "Behave! There's our guy. Let's go."

-----

John paced the floor of his living room. The stakeout had paid off; their perp had led them to his 'playground'. The full horror of what they found inside the old warehouse had left even the veteran SVU squad members reeling. He and Olivia had spent the remainder of the night and much of the following day 'sweating their perp' for a full confession… and the location of any bodies they had yet to find.

John had arrived home less than an hour earlier. He had not slept in over 72 hours… had slept only a few scattered hours for the entirety of the past week. The mental barrier he had erected so that he could focus on his duties… not kill the bastard as he sat smugly across from them, proudly describing the atrocities he had committed, was fragile at best. He had no delusions that his sleeping mind would be able to keep it in place. He desperately needed to sleep, but he was unwilling to face the dreams that would come once the barrier fell.

His cell phone rang for the second time since he had gotten home. As he had before, he ignored it. Don had promised him that he would not be called back to the precinct under any circumstances. His commander had ordered both Olivia and himself to go home and get some sleep. He had told them to take the rest of the week off… regroup. The ever observant Cragen had seen the demons in both of his detectives' eyes and Munch had no doubt George Huang would be paying him a visit before he returned to work.

After pouring himself a double shot of vodka, he walked into his bedroom and stood before the room's only window. From his vantage point, he quickly found Arwen's third-story apartment… the window of her bedroom on the side of the building across the street from his. Taking a healthy sip of the vodka, he let it burn down his throat as he considered calling her. He needed to hear her voice, feel the warmth of her spirit spread through him… pray it could drive the numbing cold out of his.

Taking a second sip, he acknowledged he wouldn't make that call. As much as he needed to talk to her, the idea of exposing her to the filth and depravity that clung to him like leeches made him physically ill. It had always been a problem for him to allow the woman in his past near him after he had been immersed in a particularly ugly case. It had been one of the many reasons his marriages had all failed. As much as he had desired to protect them, the strength of his desire to protect Arwen stunned him.

A secret gnawing fear that had haunted him since his youth… the fear at the heart of those failed marriages swamped him. Since his father's suicide, he had worried that he had inherited the predisposition to depression that had driven his father to take his own life. His Uncle Andrew's psychotic break a year earlier had begun as depressive dementia. A man, one they suspected of being a sadistic killer, was dead because of that breakdown. Andrew had chosen to retreat into the prison of his own mind out of guilt and shame for his actions.

John had understood both emotions even as he had begged his uncle to allow himself to be treated. Munch had no self-delusions that he didn't exhibit the same depressive tendencies that had led to their fall. As much as it terrified him to contemplate such a fate alone, the idea of dragging someone he loved down with him terrified him more.

Sadly, he faced the inevitable; he would have to stop seeing her. She deserved someone that could meet her as an equal and allow her close without the fear of what he was fated to become harming her… someone that would not pollute her mind and spirit with the horrors his contained. With this thought came the final acknowledgement he had been avoiding; he had fallen in love with her… deeply and passionately in love.

Taking another sip of the potent alcohol, he promised himself he loved her enough to let her go… it was for her own good. He knew he would have to cut her out of his life ruthlessly; if he saw her again, he would be weak… would drag her into his arms and never let her go. He needed her too much; she was a light that offered hope against the darkness that loamed before him. He had to let her go before that happened and that meant using the coward's solution… a brief phone call made after several days of ignoring her and a complete end to their time together.

Downing the last of the vodka, he turned to go back into the living room to retrieve the bottle. Twisting off the top, John paused as the buzzer at his building's entrance door announced the arrival of a visitor. Glancing at the mantel clock, he noted that it was 3:40 in the morning, not an hour for casual visits.

Slamming the glass down on the table, he debated what to do next. /Damn! If that's Fin… I know he means well, but I don't need him hovering! I want… need Arwen, but I can't have her. Shit! I don't want anyone else./

Pouring vodka to the top of the glass, he debated ignoring the buzzer and simply returning to watching Arwen's window. /Saying good bye,/ he assured himself. He had taken a step in that direction when the buzzer sounded again… and held. His cell phone began to ring a third time.

Striding over to the box by the door, he pressed the button and bit out, "Go home, Fin! I don't need a nursemaid!"

"John? John… please let me come up."

Arwen's voice rocked him to his core. "Arwen… what are you doing here? It's the middle of the night!"

"I know. Let me come up, John. It's kind of scary down here by myself."

Concern for her safety overrode his plan to end their relationship without ever seeing her again. After pressing the button to admit her, John wrenched open his apartment door and was standing in the opening when she arrived at his floor. Seeing her step out of the elevator, her cell phone still in one hand, reminded him of just how dangerous the City could be. "Are you crazy? It's almost 4 in the morning? You're just making yourself an easy target for some sick bastard!"

Arwen stopped in front of him, close enough to feel the warmth of his body through his rumpled dress shirt. "I was worried about you. I know it's late but… you wouldn't answer your phone. I saw you get out of the taxi a little while ago, so I knew you weren't asleep yet. You wouldn't answer, so I had to come and make sure you were all right."

Surprised, he asked, "You were watching for me to get home?"

"Of course I was. You look so… John?" A tear slipped down her cheek as she reached to massage the tense muscles of his neck and shoulders. "I knew this case was a bad one, so I've tried to stay out of your way while you did your job. I knew you must have been close to finding him from the hours you've been working… when you had to cancel the concert. I've been worried about you. Then, I saw you tonight… last night, behind the Commissioner when he took credit for the arrest on the news. You looked so haunted."

Moving a little closer, she whispered, "Please let me in. You don't need to be alone right now."

Stunned, he stared into her eyes for several long seconds before his arms reached out to drag her to him. Wrapping her in a crushing embrace, John felt the restraint he had been struggling to maintain over his emotions begin to crumble. "Damn it, Arwen. I don't want to do this to you. You deserve better than a tired, old cop twisted by the shit I see every day. I've seen too much… you deserve better."

It took her several minutes to slowly back him into the apartment so that she could shut the door behind them with her foot. She had seen how close he was to breaking… the panic and grief consuming him from within. His panic fed hers. Pulling him to the floor, she wrapped herself around him as his control collapsed.

The sobs that racked his body were unlike any she had ever seen or experienced. Instinct told her he had been holding his emotions inside for too long for his own good… the horrors of each succeeding case, every failed relationship beginning with the one he had had with parents, every personal doubt that haunted him… they had been building like layers over the years.

In a moment of absolute clarity, she realized those layers were smothering his spirit. He desperately needed to free himself of their weight before they crushed him. Arwen only hoped that he would let her help him climb free and find himself again.

-----

A/N --- For the EO fans, this chapter is just a taste! More… a lot more actually, to come a few chapters down the line!

Thanks for reading! Reviews/feedback appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 7

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

Feedback appreciated... PLEASE!!!!

Making a Connection, Chapter 7

Arwen felt the storm of emotions tearing though John's mind and body finally begin to subside. Spent and exhausted, he sagged into her embrace. For several minutes, she let him regain awareness of his surroundings, gently rubbing his back and pressing kisses to his cheek and neck.

"I didn't want you to ever see me like this," he whispered, his voice flat and empty.

Drawing him a little closer, she murmured, "How have you held all of this inside for so long?"

Turning his head away from her so that she couldn't see his eyes, he began to pull away. "I don't want you to see me like this."

"This doesn't change how I feel about you, John," she promised, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. "You have to know I've fallen in love with you and… it hurts seeing you being torn apart from inside. Let me help."

"You can't help. I won't hurt you… contaminate you with what I see every day." Struggling to free himself from her embrace, he forced himself to his feet. "You need to go home, Arwen."

She refused to move from her place on the floor, leaning wearily against the closed door. "Don't push me away, John. I'm here. I've seen you at your lowest and it hasn't changed how I feel about you. You are the strongest man I've ever known to hold all of this inside for so long. Just let me stay here with you."

"Go home!"

"No. Like you said, it's the middle of the night. I'm here until morning." Rolling to her feet, Arwen turned to set the locks on the door. Taking off her coat, she hung it in the small closet by the door.

Looking over at John, she found him staring at her. "What? I told you I wasn't leaving you."

"What are you wearing?"

"Pajamas." Holding his gaze, she admitted, "I couldn't sleep and was sitting by the window when you got home. You looked so exhausted… I was worried. I tried to call and talk to you, but you wouldn't answer… so, I had to come and check on you."

John sagged weakly against the door frame leading into the apartment's small kitchen. "Why? Why would you care? I don't deserve someone like you."

Moving to stand in front of him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled against his chest. "Has it ever occurred to you that I feel the same way about you? You're an intelligent, fascinating man, John. You do a job most either can't or won't do. You make a difference in the world, even if that difference is giving a grieving family answers. You stop monsters from hurting more people. I'm in awe of you."

"Awe of me? You've got it all wrong, Arwen. You deserve someone that can take care of you… cherish you…" he began. "Love you."

Tightening her hold on his waist, Arwen whispered, "Do you love me, John?"

His voice broke several times before he managed to croak out, "Yes… I love you."

"I love you too. Don't push me away," she whispered, her own voice thick with tears. "Please don't send me away because you think you know what's best for me! I've made my decision. I'm where I want to be, John… with you."

His arms lifted compulsively to wrap around her shaking body. "I want to take care of you, not be a burden. I don't want to see you saddled with a weak old man… see you regret throwing your life away on me when I fall apart like my dad… my uncle."

"You're not that much older than I am, so stop calling yourself old. As for being a burden… needing someone, especially the one you love, isn't weak or wrong. It's part of the bargain. You can take care of me when I need help. I'll take care of you when you need me," she soothed. "I love you, John. We're in this together, baby. Let me in. Let me love you."

"I… I don't think I know how," he murmured into her hair.

"Then, we figure it out together," Arwen replied.

Sighing, he bent to catch her lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Lifting his head reluctantly, he whispered, "Can we do that? I've never been able to make a relationship work... keep up my part of that bargain."

"And your ex's kept up their part?"

"Well... no, but…"

"I'm not them… and I suspect you aren't the same man you were when you were married to them either." Hugging him tightly, she argued, "I'm not naïve… or blind to the problems we will have to resolve, John, but… damn it, I don't want you to close me out and not give us the chance to make this work because you think you know what's best for me… or because past relationships failed for you. That's all I'm asking of you… for you to try. I'll promise to do the same… and to love you even when your job tears you apart… or my kids make demands on me… or whatever comes next!"

"Before… I had made my mind up to end things between us… but it wasn't what I wanted," he admitted. "I love you, Arwen… and I need you. I can't think straight now… but I know that I love you."

A soft smile lit her face, making his breath catch. "That's more than enough for tonight. Come on. You need to sleep."

"I can't… I'll dream…"

Slowly pulling out of his embrace, she turned him in the direction of his bedroom. Giving him a gentle shove, Arwen promised, "I'll be there. You're not alone, John. You have to sleep, but you're not alone."

Coming to a stop by his bed, she moved in front of him and began to unbuckle the strap to his holster. "Where do you keep your gun?"

Staring down into her upturned eyes, he whispered, "Bedside table drawer."

Nodding, she stepped away long enough to store the gun. Moving back to him, she began to unbutton his shirt, pulling it off of his drooping shoulders. Tossing it onto a nearby chair, Arwen reached up for his glasses. Her heart skipped a beat at the lost, vulnerable look in his eyes as they were unmasked from behind the dark lenses he favored.

In a broken voice, he murmured, "You don't need someone as weak as I am. You deserve better."

Tear-filled grey eyes held his uncertain gaze as she observed, "A weak man wouldn't have made it 20 years on the job in Baltimore… then come back to work sex crimes in New York City. You've seen the worst there is to see and are still trying. You haven't given up caring or wanting to make a difference. Never think being tired… horrified by the crimes those monsters commit makes you weak. You're not your dad. Don't give up on your life because he didn't get the help he needed… OK? We won't let that happen to you."

"How… how can you still want to be with me after seeing me like that?" he whispered, looking down to watch her undo the buckle of his belt and open the fly of his pants. A slight flush crept across his features as she pushed his pants down his legs. "I can undress myself, Arwen."

Stretching up to kiss him, she sought to sooth him. In a sultry voice, she teased, "I've been waiting to get you out of your pants since that Sunday you first kissed me. So, lay back and enjoy it."

The first hint of a smile tweaked the corners of his lips. "I have to admit… I've been thinking quite a lot about how to get you out of yours too, but this isn't quite what I had in mind."

A shiver of desire skittered through her tired body at his words. Knowing they were both too drained for more than talk, she murmured against his lips, "Hummm… we need to compare notes. But, that can wait; you need to sleep first and so do I."

Gently pushing him so that he dropped to the edge of the bed, she knelt to remove his shoes and socks. Pulling his pants the rest of the way off, she rose and folded them across the back of the chair. "Which side?"

Glazed eyes stared blankly up at her. "Which side?"

"Which side do you sleep on?" she repeated, urging him to lie back against the pillows.

"I sleep alone, Winnie, so I sleep in the middle of the bed," he murmured, his tired smile reassuring her that the mischievous side of his nature was already trying to reassert itself. "Your choice."

Comforted by his teasing, she mock-scolded him, "Winnie? Call me that again and you may be sleeping in the center of this bed a while longer."

"Don't leave…" he murmured, trying to pull her into his arms as she tucked the blanket around him.

"I'm not leaving." Finding his cell phone in the pocket of his slacks, she asked, "Do I need to leave your cell phone on or can I turn it off?"

"Off. Cap promised not to let anyone call… knew I needed to sleep. Come to bed… now," he insisted, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"In a minute. I need to call my office so they won't worry when I don't show up in a couple of hours," she replied, as she placed the phone on to the bedside table closest to him along with his badge and wallet.

Her smile became tender as she watched the undisguised pleasure wash over his face as he listened to her leave a message on her secretary's voicemail explaining she would be taking a couple of days off… 'a family matter has come up'. Her cell phone found its way to the bedside table opposite his.

After double-checking the lock on the front door and turning out the lights, Arwen kicked off her shoes and slipped under the covers, shifting to his side. "Go to sleep, love. I'm here and will be as long as you let me stay."

"Stay… forever?"

"That sounds like a good start," she agreed, leaning over to press a soft kiss to his lips.

A faint smile settled onto his face as he felt her cuddle into his side, her arm wrapping around his waist to hold him close. Turning to face her, he pulled her flush to his body. A mumbled, "love you, baby," slipped from his lips as sleep claimed him.

-----


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 8

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations   
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

Making a Connection, Chapter 8

It was late in the morning before the entwined couple began to stir. John shifted slightly, moving closer to the warm body tucked against his side. It took several minutes for the fact that he wasn't dreaming… that he was indeed sharing his bed with a soft, decidedly feminine body, to sink into his sleep hazed brain.

Bleary brown eyes slowly drifted open. Craning his neck, John found a mass of golden-blond hair tumbled across his chest. Arwen's head was tucked into the curve of his throat, every breath she took caressing the skin under his right ear.

A sleepy smile of contentment lit his face. He had slept for six uninterrupted hours, a record for him in recent weeks. Waking to find her sleeping in his arms rekindled a sense of hope… of belonging that had been missing from his life for far too long.

Vaguely remembering that she had taken the rest of the week off to be with him, John toyed with the idea of waking her so that they didn't waste any of their precious time together lost in sleep. The weariness that still pulled at him overrode the idea. Common sense demanded he let his body recharge after the strain of the past week.

His smile grew wider as the benefits of being 'recharged' played through his mind and he drifted back to sleep, lost in pleasant fantasies of how he might wake Arwen after a few more hours sleep. /Winnie… my Winnie. She might as well get used to that name. I like it./

Arwen kept as still as possible and waited to see if John would go back to sleep. She knew he needed all the rest he could get. An amused smile brightened her sleepy features as she heard him murmur, "my Winnie," as he snuggled her a little closer. /I think I'm stuck with that damn name!/

-----

Arwen didn't go back to sleep immediately. As she had when she had first joined him in bed, she cuddled close… rubbed his back as she felt him slip deeper into a healing sleep. The filtered light that spilled into the room through the drawn drapes allowed her to study his face and she lovingly memorized each intimate detail. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she smiled as he murmured something unintelligible against her throat.

Freed for the moment from the duties and responsibilities that occupied his daily life, she was struck by how young and vulnerable John looked. The fierce desire to protect him, keep the monsters of his past and present away, swept over her and left her struggling to understand how this man had so thoroughly taken over her heart in such a short time. Since her husband's death, she had not dated with any frequency… none were serious and definitely none intimate. She had grieved for Danny, raised their sons, and worked. With few exceptions, that had been her life for over eighteen years.

Her sister-in-law, Angela, the twins, and her in-laws had sat her down after Christmas dinner a year earlier… an intervention of sorts, and demanded to know if she intended to spend the rest of her life in mourning. It had shocked her, made her angry. It had also surprised her to discover they had been worrying about her for years.

They had all grouped around her and let her cry the last of her tears for her first love… finally freeing herself to the possibility a new life. A job at the UN had fallen into her lap a few weeks later, offering new challenges and possibilities for her career. She had sold her suburban DC house and moved into her New York co-op six weeks later. She had seen John for the first time a month later and had been intrigued by the man ever since.

Still watching his face, she mused/They were right… it would have broken Danny's heart to think of me being alone, unable to move on out of guilt. Loving John doesn't change the fact that I loved him too… always will./

A tear slipped free as she admitted to herself/I was so young when I married Danny. I was so sure our love would solve any problem we faced… then he died and I had to go on alone. I changed, but I refused to let him be at peace. Danny and I never got to change and grow as a couple… he never got to see the boys become men, and I've always felt guilty about that. I've always felt people would think I didn't really love him if I let myself love someone else. I was cheating both of us by letting other people determine the measure of what we had together./

From her heart, she offered/I'm sorry, Danny, for doing that to you. I loved you and I know you loved me too. That should have been enough, but I felt I had to prove it to the world by remaining alone. The only ones that matter know the truth, so I guess its time for me to stop feeling guilty and remake my life. I'll always love you, but I love John now. My future is with him… if we can make this work. Somehow, I think you're happy for me… even relieved. Be at peace, love. I think I finally am./

Carefully reaching up to brush the tears from her cheeks, she turned her attention back to the man in her arms. Arwen smiled at the memory of the first time she had seen him. Her eyes had been drawn to him the first morning she had gone to their coffee shop, searching for a neighborhood place that fit her personality.

It wasn't that she thought he was unusually handsome; handsome seemed too one-dimensional a term to describe him. Instead, he commanded her attention with an intriguing mix of attributes that added up to 'sexy cool'. His dark-tinted glasses allowed him to hide, but she was sure he had noticed her too.

She had gone back the next day as much in hopes of seeing him as because the place felt right. They had spent the next couple of months watching… studying each other over the tops of books and coffee cups. She had resolved to find a way to strike up a conversation with him that very Saturday they finally met; fate and a crowded shop had given them their opening. Her sons and her friend, Jenny, had been urging her to 'make a move' for weeks. Now they were sitting back and congratulating themselves on finally getting the couple together.

Sighing softly, she admitted to herself/I wish I was sure we are finally together. He has so much hurt in him that I need to be ready for the possibility that he will continue to fight this. He was set on breaking things off when I got here this morning. John is so sure he will fail again… is so determined to protect me that he may try telling himself its best for me. I can't let him do that… but how do I stop it if he sets him mind to it? And what if its really what he wants to do… for himself?/

Still worrying over the problems facing them, Arwen slowly drifted back to sleep. Free of the conscious doubts plaguing their waking minds, they shifted closer to each other and accepted the gift they had been given.

-----

Just after one in the afternoon, a sudden noise broke the peace and quiet of the apartment. John's eyes snapped open and he sat upright in bed, Arwen clutched protectively to his side. The buzzer at the building entrance sounded a second time and held.

Trading a look with his bedmate, John crawled quickly out from under the covers and pulled on his pants. Grabbing up his glasses and the discarded shirt from the day before, he went to answer the buzzer. "Who..?"

"Damn it, John! Let me in. You scared the hell out of us!"

"Fin?"

"Of course it's me. You drunk?" his partner demanded. "Buzz us in."

"Us?" John demanded, still groggy from sleep.

"Just buzz…" Fin's response was cut short as someone exited the building. Flashing his badge, he and George Huang entered the building without waiting for John to admit them.

"Fin?" John asked, finally thinking to hit the release to open the door. Less than a minute later, there was a knock on his door… more correctly someone began to pound on the door demanding entrance.

Still feeling foggy from so much sleep, John opened the door and stared blankly at his friends. "What…?"

"You OK?" Fin demanded. "I've been trying to get you on the phone since mid-morning! You OK?"

Still staring blankly, John nodded. "I… the phone is off; Don said he wouldn't let anyone call, so… I was asleep. Ah… come in."

Visibly sagging with relief, Fin traded a look with the physiatrist before following him into the apartment. "Figures this would be the one time he listens to the Cap."

Smiling, Huang asked, "You slept all right, John? I ask because we were worried about you when you left the station this morning. The case had really gotten to you."

"I… yes, I slept just fine." Hearing Arwen come out of the bedroom, he turned to see how she was reacting to having an audience for their first morning after sleeping together. /I had hoped to make it more than just sleeping…/ A pleased smile lit his face as he noted she had borrowed his robe to cover her pajamas.

"Hi. Don't let me interrupt." Moving toward the kitchen, she added, "I'll make some coffee. You all look like you need the caffeine."

John had not missed the blush on her cheeks, nor had he missed the slight tremor to her voice. Knowing she could have stayed hidden in the bedroom and not been seen, he was touched by her willingness to be identified as his lover. "Honey, this is Fin and George. They were worried when I didn't answer the phone, so they came by to check on me."

Pausing near the doorway to the kitchen, she smiled in greeting. "Good mor… afternoon. I'm sorry about the phone, but John said it was OK for me to turn it off," she offered, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

"No harm done. I'm just glad he's OK and that he wasn't alone in the mood he was in when he left work," Fin offered, pleased to finally meet the woman that had captured his friend's heart. "It's great to finally meet you, Arwen. John has been worthless ever since. Now, I understand why."

Her blush upped several notches as she replied, "It's nice to meet you too, Fin… George. I've heard a lot about both of you. I'll make coffee while you two talk to John."

Watching her disappear into the kitchen, John motioned his guests toward the couch. "Sorry to have worried everyone. I was so exhausted, Arwen wanted to turn the phone off so I wouldn't be interrupted. I really needed to sleep."

Stepping close enough to Munch so that his voice wouldn't carry to the kitchen, Fin grinned wickedly at his friend. "No phones? That's the real reason you slept so well?"

"Sleep was it… though you two did put the kibosh on my plans for waking up, thank you very much." Hearing the two men chuckle, he added, "And don't be your normal self, OK? Arwen doesn't have casual affairs, so she's embarrassed you found her here like this."

"I saw that, John," George agreed. "She must care a great deal about you to have put herself in the position of facing us like she did. I'm also willing to bet she had a tough time with you this morning. Am I right?"

Raking his hand through his hair, John glared at Huang. "That is…"

"My business," the physiatrist concluded, taking a seat in a chair by the window. "I almost made you sit down and talk to me before you left for home, but it was so late I decided to wait and talk to you later today. I could see you were on edge; this case ripped you apart. I need to know how you're doing."

Seeing John's face set, Fin rose from the couch. "I'll give Arwen a hand with the coffee."

Sighing with frustration, John waved him back to his seat. "She needs the time to regroup; besides I'll only end up telling you anyway. You're my partner… my best friend, so you have the right to know where my head is."

Dropping down onto the opposite end of the couch, John took a moment to organize his thoughts. "I was in a bad way… you're right. I was even planning to break things off with Arwen... save her from me and the shit we see at work. She tried calling… had been watching for me to get home. When I didn't answer, she came over."

Trading a look with Fin, Huang asked, "How could she have been watching?"

Pointing toward the window in his bedroom, John clarified, "Arwen lives across from me in the building on the corner. Her bedroom window faces my street. She saw me get out of the cab and seemed to know I was in bad shape, so she came over. She reads me pretty well."

Climbing back to his feet, he began to pace. "I tried to send her away, but… she refused to go. One thing led to another and… she finally ended up making me go to bed. I was exhausted and I don't know how I would have gotten there without her help."

"And she stayed." Huang deliberately phrased the observation as a statement not a question hoping to underscore the significance of her actions. "She stayed John… even when you tried to send her away… even when you were at such a low point, Arwen stayed with you. Hang on to that fact, my friend. It screams volumes about that lady."

Turning to look toward the kitchen, John nodded. "Yeah, I know. I don't deserve her. She actually said that's how she feels about me… that she's in awe of me. I'm scared to death she's going to realize how wrong she is to feel…"

"Is she?" Huang demanded, breaking into John's comment. "Why do you think you have the right to decide things for her? You were prepared to break up with her for 'her own good'. Now you're questioning how she sees you… how she feels about you. You don't have that right, John. She's the only one that knows how she feels or what is best for her. You can only judge how you feel. How is that?"

Still staring at the kitchen, he admitted, "That she's the best thing that's ever happened to me. I finally told her I love her. She said she loves me too."

"Damn… any fool can see that, man!" Fin interjected. "Be smart for once, John. Thank God you found each other and treat her right. You need her more than I think you realize."

Shaking his head, John murmured, "I realize. It scares me to death, but I realize."

"What happened last night, John?" Huang pressed. "You glossed over an important chunk of the story. Fill in the gaps for me."

Walking back to the couch, he again dropped down onto the lumpy surface. Frowning at the thought that Arwen's couch was a lot more comfortable, he considered how to answer Huang's question. He was under no delusions, friend or not, the physiatrist was evaluating his state of mind and fitness to work.

After several minutes, he confessed, "I broke down and cried like a baby. I have no idea for how long or even why. It was like something broke inside and I couldn't stop. The only thing that I know for sure is Arwen was there and that she held me until I stopped."

Huang felt his shoulders sag in relief. "And how did you feel afterwards?"

"Exhausted… drained… embarrassed that she had seen me like that. I tried to send her away again… but she refused… said it was part of the bargain of loving someone." Smiling slightly, he added, "She told me I could take care of her when she needs help; she would take care of me when I need her. That was how it works. After four marriages, you'd think I would already know that, but I don't. I warned her I had to learn how to make a relationship work… last."

"And she understood?"

Nodding, he replied, "She said we'd figure it out together… then put me to bed. I haven't slept like that in… years."

Hearing Arwen coming back into the room, Fin rose to help her with the tray. Huang leaned over to whisper to John as they both stood. "I'm happy for you, John. Do like Fin suggested… or was that ordered? Be smart and hang on to her. You both need each other even if you never understand what she sees in you. Arwen does and that's all that matters. You're a good man and she knows it. At some point, I'd like to see you realize it too."

-----


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 9

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations   
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

Making a Connection, Chapter 9

John slipped his arm around Arwen's waist as they began the walk back to her apartment. After drinking their coffee, George and John had remained at his place to talk through their most recent case and John's reactions while Fin had escorted Arwen to her apartment so that she could change her clothes. The group had then gone for a late lunch at a nearby restaurant. The mood at the table had been somewhat subdued.

That the talk between the two men had been difficult was clear to the other two the moment they saw them. John was restless and distracted, loosing the thread of their conversation and picking at his meal. Huang's cryptic parting comment outside the restaurant, "Be honest with her, John," had only made him more withdrawn.

"I like Fin. He has a wicked sense of humor," she offered, hoping to draw John back to her.

"Humm…"

Sighing, she tried again. "George seems sweet, but he doesn't miss a thing does he?"

"No."

Deciding the direct approach was her best option, she asked, "Be honest with me about what, John?"

Coming to an abrupt stop, he stared down into Arwen's worried grey eyes. "I… I need to tell you about my Uncle Andrew… my dad."

Rubbing his back, Arwen nodded. "OK. I had been wondering what you meant this morning when you mentioned him, but figured you'd tell me when you were ready. Andrew's you father's brother?"

"Yeah, his younger brother. Can we go for a walk in the park?" he asked, needing to delay their talk for a few more minutes. "I think I need to be outside for a while."

Tightening her hold on his waist, she agreed. "Sure… sounds like a good idea for us both."

Finding a bench near a small fountain on the far side of their neighborhood park, John urged Arwen to sit. Settling at her side, he was silent for several minutes. With a deep sigh, he began, "My uncle is in a psychiatric hospital, Arwen. He killed a man last year… pushed him under a train during a psychotic break caused by antidepressants."

Turning to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm so sorry, John. That must have been horrible for both of you."

"Yeah, it was." Hugging her close for a moment to steady himself, he continued. "When my father killed himself… he was in a depression, only that wasn't something that was understood very well forty years ago. There weren't any treatments that I know about then. His brain chemistry got out of balance and… he killed himself."

"Uncle Andrew tried to step in and be a father to me and Bernie. Mom didn't like his wife, so she made that difficult. Naturally, her displeasure encouraged me to spend a lot of time at their house. Bernie didn't because it would have upset Mother and Bernie never did that," he remembered.

Staring across the open expanse of the park, he continued. "Andrew and I remained close over the years… I visited them regularly while I still lived in Baltimore. Not long after I moved here, he and my aunt retired to Florida. She died a few years later and he moved into an independent living building. I called… visited a few times, but he was alone too much. They didn't have any children. I guess I was the closet thing they had to a son."

"Anyway, he fell into a depression and the depression fed a form of dementia. At some point, Andrew left Florida and came here to visit me, but he was already in trouble by that point… was loosing touch with reality," John offered, his guilt at not realizing his uncle's state of mind obvious. "Four months later, Elliot found him living in a cardboard box in a city park. Elliot didn't know who he was… brought him in for questioning on a case he and another detective were investigating. I saw him in the holding cell. It was the first time I realized…"

Staring off into space, he admitted, "I didn't know he was missing; I was busy and hadn't called in months. Anyway, Andrew didn't know who he was… me… how he had gotten here. Elliot had found a number of newspaper clippings about sex crimes on the side of the box he was using as a shelter. That was part of the reason they brought him in. Huang told me that was Andrew's way of trying to find me… he remembered on some level I worked with SVU."

Knowing he needed to work his way though the feelings of guilt and worry that were torturing him, Arwen remained quiet. Shifting a little closer, she rested her head against his shoulder hoping he would feel the comfort she was silently offering. John needed to face his fears directly and she had to let him set the pace of his confession.

"Once I found him, I got him treatment. George tested him and found it wasn't Alzheimer's as an ER doctor first told me, but something called pseudo dementia of depression. There are a lot of different types of antidepressants out there. It's kind of scary to say this, but they don't really know how or why they work. The doctors warned me it would be trial and error until they found the right one… or combination," he whispered, after several fraught minutes of silence. "I was pretty optimist when the first one seemed to do the trick, but… he experienced a rare, but serious side-effect. It caused him to have that psychotic break."

Falling silent again as he tried to make sense of the chain of events that followed, John finally murmured, "He killed a man we suspected of raping and killing a little girl that had befriended him while he was on the street. He overheard a comment made by someone in our office and, in his delusional state, thought that was what we were all planning to do… kill the bastard before he could hurt anyone else. I failed to recognize what was happening until it was too late."

Sighing, he concluded, "Once they got him off the antidepressant, he realized what he had done and… The guilt was too much for him; he refused to allow further treatment. He said goodbye to me and disappeared into his own mind. I go to see him, but…"

He fell silent, unable to continue. He glanced over at her hoping she would understand what was consuming him. Unable to hold her gaze, he looked away. After a moment, he let his head rest against the top of hers.

"And you think you're destined to develop the same problems that crippled your father and uncle? You think you need to end things with me because you don't want to burden me with the need to care for you when, not if, that happens?" she asked after a moment, a big part of the mystery that was John Munch snapping into place.

Relieved, yet terrified that she had understood, a gruff, "Yes," was whispered against her hair.

"And the doctors have told you that your having these problems is a certainty?"

Frowning, he shook his head. "No, but the odds…"

"What are the odds, John? Do you even know?" she demanded.

"Well, no, but…"

"OK, that's the first question we need to get answered. Why are you already convinced this is your fate? Does Bernie feel the same way?" she pressed.

"No; Bernie and I have very different personalities. He's more like our mother. Bernie isn't moody like me…"

"Was Andrew like your father?"

Pulling away enough to look down into her determined expression, John was amazed to see no revulsion or panic in her eyes. "Arwen, this is serious…"

Reaching up to cup his face, she soothed, "I know that, baby. This isn't scaring me off, so stop worrying that it will and let's sort this out rationally. That's the hazard of being involved with an economist… I approach problems analytically. I have to break it down and understand the parts before I can discuss a plan."

"So, you think you can formulate a plan to make this problem go away?" he asked, unsure if he was angry or amused by her response.

"Of course not! You're the only one that can decide how you want to deal with this, but, like I said this morning, we're in this together and you are not alone, John." Pulling his head down for a quick kiss, she insisted, "Has it ever occurred to you that you're just moody by nature… or as a result of the forces that shaped your personality? Moody… depressed isn't the same as being in a depression. You may be predisposed to depression or you may just be grumpy. You need to let a doctor make that diagnosis. Many factors can contribute to depression and we both need to understand what symptoms to be on the lookout for."

"Frankly, I'm more concerned for Bernie than I am for you, love. You're aware that you may have a problem, so we can be prepared to get you help if you ever need it." Holding his gaze, she pointed out, "From what you've told me about your uncle, he didn't display any signs of his problem until after his wife died and he was alone too much of the time. No one knew to be watching him for signs. We won't let that happen to you! You need to make sure it doesn't happen to your brother either."

Stunned, he admitted, "I hadn't thought about that. I guess I need to have a talk with him and his wife."

"Yeah, you do, but can I suggest you talk to your doctor first and let him evaluate your situation objectively?" A gentle teasing tone softened her voice as she asked, "My mother had high cholesterol and high blood pressure. My dad has diabetes. I'm probably predisposed to all three. If I do get one or all, there are a host of medical problems they can produce. I'm already trying to prevent them by watching my diet and exercising regularly. Some day I may have to add meds to the mix. Are you going to break up with me because I could get sick?"

"Is that the same as my ending up like Dad and Andrew?"

"On a certain level, yes, it is. Depression is a medical condition caused by an imbalance in the brain's chemistry. You know that. The big difference is that depression carries a stigma. It's nothing to be ashamed of, John. It's a medical condition, not a sign of weakness," she asserted. "IF it becomes a problem, we'll make sure you get the treatment you need the same as we will about my health risks. You're not alone. I'm not alone. That's one of the few assurances either of us can offer that means anything in the long run."

"I don't want to be the cause of you getting hurt!"

"Good, neither do I."

"Arwen, I'm being serious!"

"So, am I! Answer me two questions with complete honesty and we can resolve this once and for all," she proposed.

"Two questions? And an honest answer to both resolves this completely?" John demanded.

"Yes."

John stared into her eyes for several minutes as he tried to figure out where she was leading him. Seeing no artifice in her gaze, he finally nodded. "OK, ask."

"One… do you love me and want to be with me because it's what's best for you… what you truly want?" she whispered, her heart in her eyes. "Notice I didn't ask what you think is best for me or what you think I deserve."

The corner of his mouth lifted in loving exasperation. "I love you, Arwen… and I want to be with you more than I can say… for me."

Sagging slightly in relief, she took a steadying breath before she continued. "Two… if that should ever change, being with me no longer makes you happy, will you be honest with me and tell me… give me a chance to make things right again? If you are honest with me, I can face anything."

John stared at her in shock. Whatever he had been expecting her to ask, that was not it. "Arwen…"

"Please…"

Slowly, John nodded. "I can't imagine not wanting to be with you, but I promise to be honest if that ever happens… to give us both the chance to make it right again."

Reaching up to caress his face again, she whispered, "Ask me, John."

Tilting his head to fit into the curve of her palm, he murmured, "One… do you love me and want to be with me because it's what's best for you… what you truly want? Notice I didn't ask what you think is best for me or what you think I deserve."

Smiling slightly that he had included the last part, she stretched up to gently kiss him. Against his lips she vowed, "I love you, John. I want to be with you."

Taking a shuddering breath, John asked, "Two… if that should ever change, being with me no longer makes you happy, will you be honest with me and tell me, give me a chance to make things right again?"

"I promise, John."

The kiss that sealed their vows seemed more real and binding than the kisses that had sealed any of his marriages. Leaning his forehead against hers, he whispered, "I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I love you Arwen."

-----


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 10

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations   
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

Making a Connection, Chapter 10

John and Arwen slowly made their way back across the park, their arms wrapped securely around each others waists. Their talk had provided a release to the tension and anxiety that had been pulling at his spirit for longer than he could guess. He felt at peace… connected to life in a way he had never known.

Pulling John to a stop, Arwen turned him to face her. "We have the rest of the week off, so I think we need to make this a real vacation. You need to relax and have fun for a change. What do you want to do?"

A wicked grin lit his face. Pulling her to him, he whispered into her ear, "Well… I can think of a few things! Want to hear my list?"

Tilting her head to allow him to nuzzle the sensitive skin under her ear, she breathed, "Ummm, a list? I'm glad we have the rest of the week!"

Pulling her closer so that she could feel the reaction he was having to her, he shook his head. "We'll need a lot longer than a week for my list! I've had months to work on it."

Grinning, she teased, "Is now a good time to tell you I have my own list?"

A groan gusted against her neck. "You're killing me, baby!"

Relenting, Arwen proposed, "Tell you what… why don't we go by your place so you can pack a bag… then go somewhere a little more private to continue this discussion?"

Looking up, he smiled. "Where are we going that I need to pack?"

"My place. You're on vacation, so you get to sleep as late as you want, read, watch TV… movies, surf the net… go for day trips; it's all up to you. We'll go shopping for whatever you want for dinner… breakfast, too." Reaching up to caress his cheek, she added, "As for that list… you can tell me more about it over a glass of wine tonight."

Resting his forehead against hers, he whispered, "So, I have to wait unto tonight for a little… wine?"

Laughing softly, she pressed a kiss to his smiling lips. "It's your vacation… so you might be able to talk me into opening a bottle a little early."

"I'm very thirsty; I'm in the mood for something smooth… a little full-boded," he teased, a pleasant mix of anticipation and contentment singing in his veins.

Eyes sparkling with amusement and desire, she attempted to assume an outraged expression. "Full-bodied??? What exactly are you suggesting?"

Laughter accompanied his arms tightening their hold on her body. "Full-bodied… voluptuous… sexy… beautiful! I think you're perfect!"

"Hardly!"

Pulling back enough to catch her eyes, he shook his head. "You're perfect to me. I'm the one that should be worried about what you'll think of me. My nickname in school was 'the Pencil' after all."

"I happen to think you're very sexy," she murmured nestling back against his chest. "If you hadn't been dead on your feet this morning, I'd have jumped you!"

"Good to know." Taking a deep breath, he repeated, "My place to pack… the market, then home?"

"Home… that sounds perfect," she agreed.

-----

John stepped out of the bedroom after putting his things away in the space Arwen had cleared for his use and looked around the living room of her co-op. The unit was roughly the same size as his but the rooms were smaller. Hers had to accommodate two bedrooms, one for her and one for her sons. Despite being smaller, the main room was open and bright.

It made him realize how dark and depressing his own co-op seemed some days. It underscored how little he had done to make it feel like a home since moving in over eight years earlier. He had been able to purchase it thanks to his pension from Baltimore, but it still felt like a rental.

Moving over to the cd racks that were clustered near an entertainment hutch, he took several minutes to sort through her collection to find the ones he wanted. It had been yet another sign of their innate compatibility that they shared a lot of common ground in their musical tastes… but then Arwen seemed to like almost any type of music. He was more predicable and fixed in his tastes, but he had finally begun to admit he liked some of the non-jazz selections she made when she was the one choosing their music for the evening.

A mix of various jazz artists found their way onto the carousel, a compilation of tracks by Thelonious Monk set to play first. Smiling a little smugly, he reminded himself that he was on vacation and ignored 'the opportunity to broaden his horizons' as Arwen often urged him to do. Next week he would go back to allowing her to interest him in classical music or the more recent variants of rock… even hip-hop if she smiled right. For the rest of the week, he was more than willing to be indulged and petted. That meant jazz… maybe some blues and classic rock, and more jazz.

Satisfied with both his selections and with his vacation mindset, he drifted over to the door of the kitchen to see what his lady was doing. /My lady! I love the sound of that! I wonder if she thinks of me as her man?/

Leaning against the archway that divided the rooms, John smiled at the sight before him. Arwen was making bread. He knew without looking that the lamb chops they had purchased at the market were already marinating in the frig. The fresh veggies she had carefully selected had already been washed and were in the crisper until she needed them.

It fascinated him to watch her cook; it was one of her favorite activities. It no longer surprised him to find the TV set to the Food Network when he turned it on… she watched cooking shows like he watched ones about conspiracy theories. Some of those shows had even captured his interest, so he was not averse to spending an hour or so learning new cooking techniques with her curled up to his side.

Arwen had good instincts for selecting new recipes to try from the hundreds offered. She loved to tease him that he was her guinea pig, but he was a willing test subject. It was rare indeed that her selections weren't completely delicious. Good food was a passion they shared, so he was open to trying some of her more adventurous offerings.

He had to admit he found it oddly comforting to simply watch her putter around her kitchen. None of the women he had known before her shared this interest, including his mother. Deborah Munch was an indifferent cook at her best. As a result, John had developed a preference for eating out while he was still a child… if for no other reason than to get a good meal. Behind her back, it was an old family joke that she could burn water.

For good or ill, she was the standard against which he had measured all women in his life. On some level, he had long ago realized that the women he had married were a lot like his mother. As much as the comparison unsettled him, he knew that his mother was beautiful, demanding, spoiled, and not regularly given to intellectual pursuits… terms that could describe his ex's with equal accuracy. He was sure a psychiatrist would tell him he had been trying to find a substitute for her love in women that reminded him of her; he preferred to ignore the issue and used sarcasm to distract everybody else.

Deborah Munch lived for attention. While she had loved his father passionately, she loved herself more. Bernie had accepted her rules; he and his father had not. That meant they were regularly subjected to her tantrums…Deborah expected to get her own way even when what she wanted was unreasonable or illogical. After his father's death, John had borne the brunt of her childish behavior alone. She had told him many times that he was a disappointment… mostly because he refused to relent and accede to her demands.

John Munch, Sr. had been as different from his wife as night and day. He had been moody and withdrawn, then endlessly talkative in turns. He had lived in his head much of the time… a trait his older son had inherited. When he returned from World War II, he had planned to pursue a law degree. Even with the GI Bill, the demands made by Deborah had made that impossible. There had never been enough money to make her happy… then the needs of their children had become another obligation that came before his own desires.

His mother had suffered two miscarriages before he had been born… three more in the years before Bernie came into the world. The need to support his family had smothered his father's dreams. In his heart, John suspected his father had never gotten over his disappointment and that his disappointment had fed his depression.

Bernie was, in many ways, a carbon-copy of their mother. John was more like their father, though he knew he reminded most people of his maternal grandfather in temperament. He often wondered if his likeness to his father was one of the reasons his mother was so hard on him… that she feared he would end up like his father, dead by his own hand. His physical resemblance to his father was uncanny and he knew she found it difficult to look at him when he visited her. His last visit he has told her about Andrew. Her only comment had been to say she wasn't surprised.

Forcing his thoughts away from his family, he focused on the woman before him. She had begun to knead the dough, her entire upper body engaged in the task. He found it oddly sensual, her hands pulling and pushing the dough in rhythm with the force exerted by her shoulders and arms. Watching her soothed him and he felt the melancholy that always accompanied thoughts of his father slip away.

It wasn't that he held to the old stereotype that women should be good cooks that explained his enjoyment of Arwen's culinary skills. Yes, he had been more than happy to show his pleasure at the meals she had made them since they started dating. His pleasure, however, was founded on the fact that it underscored the fact that she was more multi-dimensional than the women in his past.

Arwen was a solid, stable, sensible person. She had a successful career in a challenging field, had a mischievous sense of humor, was extremely well-read and conversant on current events, loved a wide range of music and art… was a mother and friend to a fortunate group of people. That she could also cook was a bonus… one he heartily enjoyed.

Coming to her place after a particularly bad day at work to find the apartment filled with the scents of baking bread or some decadent dessert made him feel wanted… even cherished. Arwen cared enough to take the time to cook for them and her co-op now seemed like the home he had called it earlier. The prospect of being able to sleep there on a regular basis was exciting to him on many levels beyond the obvious prospect of adding the intimacy of love making to their relationship.

Her cooking seemed to express her personality as surely as a painting expressed an artist's. It also spoke to her desire to take care of those that shared her life. Her response to his crisis earlier in the day… her approach to dealing his deep-seated fears about his own future, had been as far removed from his prior experiences as he could imagine. She had focused on him; she asked for nothing more than his honesty, offering the same in return.

Her voice broke into his musings. "Did you have enough room for your things?"

Moving up behind her, John slipped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Plenty. You're sure you don't mind my leaving a few things over here after this week?"

Tilting her head so that she could look up into his eyes, she replied, "You know I don't, John. I have to admit the prospect of having you spend nights here… excites me. It felt so good sleeping beside you this morning."

Pleased that her thoughts matched his, he teased, "Excites you does it? Shall I open that bottle of wine?"

A sultry purr suggested, "Well, we did buy a several bottles, so your choice."

The simmering awareness that had been coursing through his veins since waking to find her in his bed ratcheted up several notches in response to her suggestion. Feeling himself begin to harden, John pulled her closer as he pressed firmly against her back. A soft growl preceded, "Keep using that voice and we can forget the wine!"

Wiggling around so that she was facing him, Arwen twined her arms around his neck. Pulling his head down for a passionate kiss, she whispered, "The wine will keep…"

-----

Rolling onto his back, John took several deep breathes as he tried to control his racing heart. Looking to his right, he watched the play of emotions drift across Arwen's flushed face. Noting that she looked as pleased and sated as he felt, John reached out to brush a strand of blond hair off of her cheek.

Smiling at the gesture, she turned to curl into his side. His arms wrapped possessively around her waist to pull her up so that she draped over his chest. A heartfelt, "That was… amazing!" was breathed against his damp skin causing him to shudder slightly.

A smug grin erased the last of the uncertainty he had been trying to hide. "Yeah, it was."

"It… was good for you too?" she whispered.

Touched by the soft, hesitant tone of her voice, John tightened his hold for a few seconds. "It was better than I could have imagined… and I have a very good imagination. I feel like that was the first time I ever truly made love."

He felt her smile. "We did… make love that is. I love you, John."

"I love you too, baby," he whispered. "I have only one complaint…"

Frowning, Arwen shifted so that she could see his face. Renewed insecurity threatened to erase the contentment from her features. "What?"

Pulling her the rest of the way up onto his body so that he could catch her lips in a lingering kiss, he murmured, "Can we try making it to the bed next time… or at least the couch? I'm too old for making love on the floor of the kitchen! Ceramic tile is cold and it's pretty hard on my back."

Caught off guard by his response, Arwen began to laugh. "Don't blame it on me, Det. Munch! I seem to remember you were the one…" Her retort was cut off by another kiss.

-----

A grin seemed to have permanently attached itself to his face. Looking up from pouring the wine he had selected, he watched as Arwen put the finishing touches on the salad she had made to go with their meal. The kitchen was filled with the pleasing aroma of baking bread and the lamb chops grilling on her down-draft range.

Wincing at the shock of the cold tiles on his bare feet, he rose from the chair he had occupied for the last half-hour… time spent watching her, and placed a glass of a rich Cabernet Sauvignon where she could easily reach it. Toying with the idea of going in search of a pair of socks or his bedrooms shoes, John felt his grin widen into a smug smile at the thought that cold tiles would always remind him of the first time they had made love. /First two times actually/, he mentally tallied.

Looking up in time to see his expression, Arwen chuckled. "It's a good thing you have the rest of the week off, love. Fin would have way too much fun with you and that grin."

An answering chuckle preceded, "He's just jealous now that he's met you."

"Right! Fin is sitting at home this minute lamenting the fact you met me first!" she laughed. "I somehow doubt he sleeps alone much."

Feeling a little jealous, John frowned. "You only met him once. Why would you think he is such a player?"

Tilting her head to study him, Arwen noted, "Other than the fact he's handsome, sexy, and single?"

Sputtering on a sip of wine, John demanded, "You think he's sexy?"

"Well, not as sexy as I think you are, but yeah." Grinning, she teased, "You can't be jealous?? Not after the way we spent the afternoon! Do I need to drag you back to the floor to prove I love and desire you, Munchkin?"

A slightly dopey smile lit his face. "I promise not to struggle… though the couch…"

Sighing dramatically, Arwen pointed toward the table she had set for their meal. "Go sit and stop trying to distract me. Be a good boy and eat your supper; then, we'll discuss the couch… the bed over a glass of wine."

Chuckling, John settled aback into his chair. "Define 'be a good boy'?"

Taking a sip of the wine he had poured for her, she studied the smug grin on his face. Shaking her head, she smirked, "Quite trying to get me to jump your body, my love. Speaking of your body… love your tattoo! Care to tell me how a cop ends up with a tattoo like that?"

-----


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 11

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

Feedback appreciated!!

-----

Making a Connection, Chapter 11

"Hi Liv. How are you doing?"

A small smile curled her lips as she shifted the phone from one ear to the other. "I'm alright, John. How about you?"

Rather than answering her question, John asked one of his own. "What are you doing today? Have you got any plans?"

"Not really. I'm beginning to get a little uncomfortable with how organized and sparkling my apartment is, so I guess cleaning is out," she offered.

Frowning, John demanded, "Is that how you've spent the last two days… cleaning?"

Sighing, she admitted, "Yeah, for the most part. Elliot came over night before last, but… that only made me feel more restless. George came by for a 'visit'. I love him to death, but… that didn't help much. Fin and Don have called, but they were busy covering for us. How about you? You sound… you sound happy, John."

"I am, but don't take my word for it," he urged. "Come and see for yourself. Arwen and I would love to have you spend the day with us. How about it? We want to throw a party tonight and we need your help pulling it together. All of us could use the diversion and a little fun for a change."

Smiling slightly at the offer, she began to decline. "Thanks for asking, but you don't want me intruding…"

"You won't be intruding. We both want you to join us… really, Liv." Glancing over at the woman sitting across from him at the kitchen table, John added, "Do I have to put Arwen on the line to confirm that?"

Olivia heard a female voice in the background, "You're not intruding. Please come over, Olivia."

Desperate for something fun to do, Olivia felt her resistance waver. "I don't want to be in the way. You two need this time alone…"

Smirking, John offered, "It will take you at least an hour to get here… probably longer. That should give Winnie enough time to have her way with me and still be ready when you get here. We'll expect you around eleven, OK?"

Grinning at the threats Arwen was making to John for calling her Winnie… threats that had him chuckling, Olivia agreed. "Well, if you're sure… I'll be over about 11. Do I need to bring anything?"

"Nope… just a party attitude. We're at Arwen's; it's across the street from my place. The address is..."

-----

Olivia stared at the lighted dial over the door of the elevator. The call inviting her to join John and Arwen's 'vacation' had come as both a surprise and a much needed diversion. She had spent the last few days thinking too much.

To her surprise, John was waiting for her in the hallway near the elevators. Recognizing the look in her eyes, he pulled her into a comforting hug. "Come on in, Liv. Arwen is in the kitchen making desserts for tonight. I've been put in charge of deciding on a theme for the party… then making the shopping list, so I'm drafting you to help me."

Returning the hug, she smiled genuinely for the first time since her own 'vacation' began. "Thanks for inviting me to come over… my walls were closing in. Desserts? Anything chocolate by chance?"

"Chocolate silk pie and a chocolate cake so far... and a 'naner pudding." Smiling fondly, John added, "Arwen loves to cook and bake. She knows I have a sweet tooth, so I may finally start putting on some weight!"

Shaking her head, Olivia complained, "You are the only person I know that could say that! It's so unfair!"

Grinning, he teased, "Them's the breaks, beautiful! Besides I've never seen you worry too much… with good reason, I might add. Elliot seems to like what he sees too."

Groaning, she complained, "I'm tired of looking, but not touching! That got old a long time ago!"

A wicked smile preceded, "Since I'm already in trouble with you about the weight thing, I better keep my mouth shut about that one!"

"Well, that explains the grin! Damn Munchkin, Fin was right. You really did need to get laid!" she teased, following him down the hall to the last door on the right. "So, what is 'naner pudding? You know I've been looking forward to meeting Arwen."

"She's looking forward to meeting you and the others, too. And, 'naner pudding is me harassing her, telling her that's how banana pudding is pronounced in the South," John offered, leading her inside. "As for the rest… I was thinking we could have a 'seafood boil'… crab, shrimp, lobster claws, crawfish, etc. up on the roof. Tonight is supposed to be a lot warmer than the last few nights, so we should take advantage of it. How does that sound?"

"Ymmm, that sounds great!" Olivia announced, feeling hungry for the first time in days. "So, we're having a party on the roof?"

Smiling, John nodded. "Seafood, chocolate… beer and wine… stars and moonlight… music and our favorite dance partners with the weather cool enough we'll need to snuggle. What more do we need?"

Chuckling, she nodded. "Sounds like a good start. What can I do to help?"

"Help me figure out the shopping list!" he declared, faking a helpless look. "I'm clueless when it comes to things like this. Do you know if any of the dates the others are bringing are allergic to seafood? We'll need to buy steaks or something if there's any doubt."

"I'm not sure about Sally… and I've never met Fin's date. Have you?" Olivia replied, amazed by the sight of this light-hearted side of her friend. "I've seen everybody else eat seafood, so they should be OK. I can call and ask if it would help."

"Great. And, no I haven't met Marisa yet. They've only been out a few times." Pausing near the door to the kitchen, he added, "I don't think Fin's serious about her, but you never know with him. He needs a steady relationship, but he just laughs when I tell him that."

"Well, it looks like it was what you needed!" Olivia began to laugh. "John… I can't get over you! You're downright bubbly! I can't wait for Fin and Don to get here and see you like this! They will have a field day!"

"I resent that! I am never 'bubbly'. And you had better be nice, Detective. Once you and Elliot get things worked out, I will remember… unless you plan to come to my aid tonight!" John retorted, knowing in advance he was in for a lot of ribbing no matter what she did… and knowing he would hassle her and Elliot regardless of any promises he made to the contrary. /We've had to watch them dance around each other for years! We earned the right to have a little fun!/

A sweet smile proceeded, "If I look half as happy and content as you do, I'll find a way to bear the abuse! So, when do I get to meet the 'royal lady'?"

"'royal lady'?? Gezz, John, what have you been telling her?" Arwen appeared behind him, moving to stand at his side. John's arm immediately curled possessively around her waist. A warm smile accompanied, "Hi Olivia. I'm so glad you came."

Accepting the extended hand, Liv smiled in greeting to the pretty blonde. "Thanks for inviting me. The walls were closing in on me and Cap wouldn't let me come back to work until Monday. My place is tiny, so there is only so much cleaning I can do before I run out of things to keep me busy."

Looking into the other woman's eyes, Arwen saw echoes of the demons that had nearly torn apart John's spirit a few nights earlier. Squeezing his waist in wordless agreement with his assessment, she joined his resolve to help Olivia relax and find some peace of mind. /John was right to be worried about her./

Gesturing to the small bistro table in the corner of the kitchen, Arwen began. "Well, we're glad you could come. Would you like a cup of coffee… or a glass of wine while we wait for John to finish the shopping list? At the rate he's going, it could be a while."

"Hey! I'm standing right here!"

Stretching up to give him a quick kiss, Arwen agreed. "I noticed. So, coffee or wine, Olivia?"

Taking a seat, Olivia admitted, "I'd love the wine, but… it's only eleven in the morning."

John opened a cabinet and withdrew three wine glasses. "House rules… we're on vacation, so normal rules don't apply. How about a glass of the Beaujolais Nouveau we bought at a wine tasting last night?"

Shaking her head at John's snug grin, Olivia nodded. "Sounds good."

Opening the oven to remove three cake pans, Arwen suggested, "The cheese and fruit left from last night are on a plate in the frig, honey. Why don't you pull it out and we can nibble on that with the wine."

Breathing deeply, Olivia's face took on a dreamy quality. "That cake smells heavenly! You may need to hide it or it will all be gone before tonight."

Grinning, Arwen proclaimed, "A fellow chocoholic! We will get along fine… as long as we don't get down to the last piece! John's been asking for banana pudding, so he's no competition."

Pouring the wine, John corrected, "I plan to have cake and pudding… and pie. Are you making a pecan or an apple… maybe both?"

Trading a grin with Olivia, Arwen reasoned, "I've already made a Key Lime and a chocolate silk in addition to the cake and the pudding, so do we really need another one?"

"How about a Kentucky Derby pie?" he suggested, ignoring her question. "You make a killer Kentucky Derby pie."

Amused by the banter, Olivia asked, "What's a Kentucky Derby pie?"

"It has chocolate and nuts… a shot of bourbon, so you'll love it, Livvie. Just nod your head when I ask again," John instructed, handing her a glass of the wine. "This is a pretty good year. I wish we'd gotten more than two bottles. We need to stop and pick up a few more while we're out."

"Put it on the list… assuming you've started one," Arwen teased, accepting her glass.

"I have a list in my head," John retorted. "Do I need to write it down?"

"Of course not, love, but you will have to make the runs back to the store to pick up anything we forget the first time," Arwen replied, winking at Olivia. "Liv and I will need to stay here and keep an eye on the chocolate cake."

"Guard it from each other you mean!" Taking a sip, Olivia let the rich red wine settle on her tongue. "Very nice. You went to a wine tasting?"

"Yeah, at a shop a few blocks over," John confirmed, rummaging in the refrigerator for the cheese-fruit plate. "We saw a sign advertising the tasting when we went for a walk yesterday afternoon and decided to follow another of our vacation rules… I get to do whatever I want!"

Chuckling, Arwen carefully turned the cakes out onto cooling racks. "I think I've created a monster!"

"You have… no doubt about it!" Olivia agreed. "Since I've never seen John look this content, it's hard to take you to task. Guess I'll have to make a point of putting him back in his place next Monday for all our sakes."

Tilting his head to peer at her over the top of his glasses as he pulled the plastic wrap off of the plate, he announced, "I plan to be so spoiled by then, I'll survive your worst. Stick with us and we'll both be so bad the others will pay us to stay away!"

Accepting the plate, she chuckled. "So I get to do whatever I want for the rest of the day too?"

"Of course… unless it interferes with what I want to do." Popping a grape in his mouth, he added, "I have seniority around here after all!"

-----

"So… you broke down and cried?"

Looking up from setting chairs around the improved table the tenants of Arwens' co-op used when having a party on the building's roof… a large sheet of plywood stretched over several empty metal drums, John studied his companion. "That about sums it up."

He and Olivia had been given the job of readying the roof for the impromptu party they were throwing. They had invited the other members of SVU and their colleagues at the DA's and ME's offices that routinely worked with them on their cases. Over the years, close friendships had developed between them and they often socialized as a way of handling the stress they shared in their work.

Knowing Arwen, John suspected their assignment was as much to give them time alone to talk as to setup the table and chairs. They both knew Olivia needed to talk and that John was the most likely to get her to open up. Trusting his instincts, he had elected to begin by telling her what had happened to him earlier in the week. He was hoping she would realize it demonstrated the trust and respect he had for her and would hopefully encourage her to reciprocate.

Staring at the pattern on the tablecloth she was spreading over the rough wood, Olivia quietly asked, "Did it help?"

"Surprisingly, yes it did," John acknowledged. "George told me I needed to physically purge the anger and other emotional shit that had been building up in me for years. He says having Arwen there kept me grounded… accepted, and triggered the release."

"And there was a difference… between venting and really releasing those emotions?" Olivia pressed, needing to know. "Having Arwen there made a difference?"

Reaching for another folding chair, he took a moment to open it and slide it under the table. "It did… maybe because I felt like I wasn't alone for the first time in my life… that she was in this for the long-haul and didn't think less of me for losing control. George realized what had happened before I understood it myself."

Curious, Olivia caught his gaze. "What? What did he see, John?"

"That I had finally found someone I trusted enough to let myself be **that** exposed and vulnerable." Sighing, John admitted, "I'm not the best at talking about this sort of thing, Liv, but I was prepared to push her away rather than let her see me like that. I felt pathetic and weak… but Arwen didn't see it that way. She sees me like no one else, myself included, sees me… thinks I'm strong. That reassurance helped a lot. We've talked a lot since that night. She's teaching me how to be in a real relationship."

A sad, yet rueful smile curled her lips. "Does she give lessons?"

Smiling faintly, John shook his head. "Sorry, no… but, now that I really think about it, it's not so much her teaching me as my being willing to take the risk of our learning together. Every relationship is different, but there are basic ground-rules. Beyond that, the couple has to keep working to make these rules relevant… make them fit as the relationship evolves over time. I trust and respect Arwen… something I never really did with any of my wives, even Gwen. That gives me the confidence to try."

"Gwen was number one?" Olivia asked, curious about the frequently dissed, but seldom discussed ex-Mrs. Munches. "I don't think I even know their names, John. Why did… forget that. I have no right to pry into your private life."

Staring out across the roof to the nearby park, John realized that the topic of his ex-wives no longer had the power to hurt as it had for so long. "Yeah, Gwen was number 1… very needy and demanding. I wanted to take care of her… protect her from her overbearing mother. We both expected me to be her knight-in-shining-armor rather than her partner."

Forcing his thoughts back to the present, he continued. "Trouble with being a knight-in-shining-armor, Liv, is you have to keep up the facade all the time. Failure… weakness… problems of my own spoiled the image and she left when she saw I had feet-of clay… or maybe I stopped trying when I got tired of being ripped apart for being a fallible human. I was young and stupid… insecure; neither of us was ready for marriage, much less the compromises you have to make to keep one going."

Pausing for another moment of reflection, he continued. "Gwen was the only one I really loved, but it wasn't the type of love that survives in the real world. In retrospect, I think I married Nancy and Sally from the same misguided fantasy. I didn't love them enough to try as hard as I did with Gwen. They were clones of her and I kept making the same mistakes with them that I made with her… or maybe I was just too blind to realize I wanted more from a wife than they were able to give until after we were married."

Turning back to face his companion, John summarized, "I'm not sure I ever deluded myself that I loved Billie Lou… it was all talk and no substance. She was a performance artist that paid the bills by working as a bartender at the Waterfront. Another detective in my division was going through a divorce and fixated on her. I think it was more a desire to win… maybe prove something to myself by getting her before he could. Gharty's personality was as opposite mine as you can imagine. In school, he would have been the class bully, while I was the class target."

Frowning, he admitted, "Getting married… the added spice of having two men vie for her attention was all another performance for her… drama for drama sake. That one was doomed before it even began. I genuinely liked her… something I'm not sure I can say about the first three, but I never loved her. We should have settled for an affair and cut our losses."

"I know I only met her a few hours ago, but Arwen seems a world away from any of them," Olivia observed.

A smile that came from his heart lit John's face. "Yeah, she is. I was trying to imagine Gwen's reaction to what happened the other night… some of the talks we've had since. I'm not lying to say I might well have eaten my gun rather than face it. There would have been this huge, vicious shouting match that somehow became about her… how inadequate she and her mother thought I was. Honestly, I think Winnie's calm, supportive response was such a shock to my senses, she had me tucked into bed before I could react. It really became tangible for me how different she is after that night."

"And George saw all that."

"Yeah, he did… along with a host of other things that were holding me back." Frowning, he added, "He challenged me on my attitude… about work and Arwen. He says I have a bad habit of taking on the responsibility for the success or failure of everything… that I don't like myself all that much. He was right as usual."

Deliberately looking away as he began to assemble a second table near the door for the food, he asked, "Sound familiar, Liv?"

"What?" she sputtered. "I don't…"

John remained silent for several minutes as he let her sort through her own emotions. "I don't…"

"Yes you do."

Glaring at him, she accused, "You didn't even let me finish my thought!"

Glancing back at her over his shoulder, he challenged, "You were going to say you don't take on the responsibility for the success of everything and assume the guilt for every failure. You were then going to deny that you are too hard on yourself… deny that you think you are somehow lacking because of what happened to your mother… who your father was. Right?"

Still glaring, she quietly agreed. "I wouldn't have put it quite like that… but, yeah. You think I do?"

"The guilt/responsibility part… we all do. Maybe that's why we do what we do. We never cut ourselves any slack by acknowledging that we aren't the monsters that hurt the vics we see… or that we can't be everywhere at once so we can save them all," John murmured, reminding himself as much as her of the tragic truth of what he was saying. "We can only do our best and pray it makes a difference."

"As for the rest, you are one of the truest, kindest people I've ever known. Those of us that have the privilege of knowing you see you as Olivia, the woman… the cop… our friend, not the child of rape… or the survivor of a difficult childhood. Those tragedies had a hand in shaping you, but they aren't you." Walking over to catch her shaking shoulders in a firm grip, he added. "We see a beautiful, caring, intelligent woman that does honor to her badge, this city, and to each of us by her very presence in our lives. Isn't it about time for you to put the past behind you, Livvie, and embrace the woman you are? You love Elliot. It's time for you to claim the life you deserve… OK?"

-----

Olivia stared out over the city and let her emotions settle. She had cried, comforted by her friend, but both she and John knew she still had a lot more suppressed pain to purge. He had left her alone to regroup, claiming he needed to check on Arwen and make sure she was making his Kentucky Derby pie. Her recent bout of tears had let her reestablish a temporary balance, but she needed Elliot's help if she was going to find herself again.

Without conscious thought, her hand found her cell phone in her pocket and she dialed Elliot's number. "Hi. Do you have a minute? I need to talk and it needs to be to you."

-----


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 12

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

Feedback greatly appreciated!!

Making a Connection, Chapter 12

Elliot paused at the top of the stairs to the roof and scanned the small crowd. As always, his gaze locked immediately on Olivia. Her call earlier in the day had come as a surprise… she had never reached out to him like that before. He had already been worried about her, especially after leaving her apartment two nights earlier. He had not missed the fragile quality she had exhibited… had known he was a large part of the reason for her fractured emotions.

He had planned to stop by her place to check on her the night before, but he and Fin had been called to a scene before he had managed to get more than a half-dozen blocks from the precinct. Thankfully, the case had turned out to be as innocuous as they typically found… worried parents that had caught a situation before it went too far. He hoped they would be able to help their daughter. He and Fin had read the young man involved the riot act, hoping to make the 20 year-old wise up and look for lovers over the age of 16.

He had not gotten home until after 11 and had settled for a phone call while he puttered around his kitchen making a sandwich. Neither the call nor the cold-cuts had been very satisfying. He had wanted more. He wanted… needed Olivia.

The time she had been undercover for the FBI had ripped away his self-imposed blinders about his feelings for her. His brief affair with Dani Beck had been a disaster, hurting them as much as it had Olivia. Her absence from the office the past few days had been the final confirmation he needed that his feelings were all he thought they were.

Her call had come at a slow time in the office and no one had paid much attention as he had made his way to the roof of the building so they could talk freely. It had occurred to him even as he was doing it that he had been facing North in the direction of Hudson Heights, subconsciously needing to face her. They had talked for over an hour, said more… admitted more than they had in the previous eight years. They had begun their conversation unsure of their relationship, but it had ended with both of them confident they were now committed to a future with each other.

He loved Olivia and she loved him. Elliot knew he had hurt her with his indecision and unpredictable mood swings. She had patiently let him find his way through the tangle of emotions he had spun around himself, hoping he would then be ready to turn to her. As she often did, today she had amazed him… left him in awe. Olivia had taken the risk of calling him and declaring herself fully. She had given him her heart without reservation… and he had been claimed in the process.

Smiling, Elliot studied his partner… at work and in life. Olivia was perched on top of a low wall that divided the roof in half. She appeared to be giving instructions to John and Fin as the pair added something to a bubbling liquid inside a gas cooker. Their combined laughter drifted to his ears and he found himself smiling without knowing the joke. It was clear that Olivia was in a very good mood and she looked more relaxed than he could remember seeing her in… years.

He made a mental note to thank John and Arwen for including her in the planning of this party; it had obviously been just the diversion she needed. He suspected they were the ones that had somehow inspired her call. He needed to ask her at some point; the other couple… John, in particular, had been true friends and he was grateful for any help they had given.

As if she felt his eyes on her, Olivia looked up. The smile on her face transformed from mischievous to radiant as she saw him. Elliot felt his heart begin to race as her smile completely swept away any wisps of uncertainty that might have lingered in his mind. She loved him… loved him in a way no one else ever had. She knew him… knew him in ways no one else did. She knew he could become single-minded when a case consumed him… that he had a temper and sometimes let his emotions get the better of his tongue. She knew his worst, she knew his best… and she loved him despite, or perhaps, because of it all.

A soft, gentle voice broke into his thoughts. Looking to his left, he found he had been joined by a very pretty blond lady. "You must be Elliot. I'm Arwen. I'm so glad you could come."

"Hi Arwen." Taking her hand, he grinned, "So you're the lady that has made John Munch actually smile on occasion."

His comment caused the assembled to laugh. Don Cragen pointed to John and announced, "Take a good look at him, Elliot! He hasn't stopped smiling since we got here!"

John looked over and caught Arwen's twinkling grey eyes. Smirking, he suggested, "Ignore them, baby. Not only are they jealous, they don't get out all that often and have limited social skills."

"Social skills? You actually think you can teach us anything about social skills, Munchkin?" Fin laughed, clamping the lid back on the cooker. "I'm surprised you even know the meaning of the words!"

"I have an extraordinary vocabulary, Det. Tutuola, as you should already know," John shot back. "I usually have to restrict myself to using simple words and short sentences so that I don't loose any of you… and my social skills are legend. I'm from Charm City after all."

Seeing several of their company opening their mouth to respond to his taunt, Arwen held up her hand. "Time out! Everybody… and that includes you, John, has to play nice tonight! The roof of a five story building isn't a good place for arguments. John is all yours Monday morning. I'll have the Band-Aids and iodine ready when he gets home."

Mock glaring at her, John defended himself. "I'll have you know, I can hold my own."

Moving to his side, Arwen stretched up to buzz his lips with a quick kiss. "I never doubted that, love. They're on their own dealing with the wounds you inflict, OK?"

"Keep building him up, Arwen, and I'll be afraid to go back to work!" Olivia laughed. "Cap, I think I'll need Monday off… maybe Tuesday too, if the testosterone levels haven't settled down by then!"

"Hell no! I'm sure I'm supposed to be at an all-day meeting at One PP… there has to be one somewhere in that maze I can crash, so you'll need to be there to keep them in line!" Don retorted, reaching into the cooler for a soft drink. "Arwen, you better have something bigger than a few Band-Aids. John's setting himself up big."

"Remind me to bake sweet rolls or muffins for you to take with you, baby," Arwen agreed. "You may need a peace offering."

"Why did you say that now? Casey and George heard you, so we'll have to share with them. They're greedy!" Fin complained, sauntering over to help himself to another crab puff from the dwindling selection of appetizers on a small table next to the door. "Damn, these are good!"

Casey traded a look with George before commenting, "We're greedy??? When did Arwen say they were all yours, Odafin? George, I think we need to ambush John in the parking lot Monday morning and demand our cut before Fin gets his hands on the plate!"

Nodding solemnly… the twinkle in his eyes betraying his amusement, Huang agreed. "Melinda, want to join us? A third for each of us sounds fair."

"Do we still get to harass John while we're relieving him of the goodies?" the ME asked, sharing a grin with her husband, Will. "I have to be at work early and don't want to miss out on that."

"Of course. I'll bring the coffee and we'll feast while we rip him," George agreed.

"What did I tell you… greedy," Fin observed, before moving over to the shrimp dip. "For future reference, I could be bribed into doing almost anything with a bowl of this spread! Here, babe… try this," he urged, holding out a cracker to his date, Marisa.

"I thought you were watching the boil, not scoffing up the eats?" John inserted, joining Fin at the table. Grabbing several of the puffs, he suggested, "Try the salsa. Liv and I made it. Liv made the guacamole, too."

"I did and they're both pretty good, but… this stuff has shrimp in it. Salsa is just veggies!" Fin laughed. "And, I have a few before the corn and sausage get added, so chill on the boil."

"'chill on the boil'? Sounds like you need to reread the instructions for cooking…" John began.

Casey's voice cut through their banter. "Arwen, it they keep this up, do they get sent to a timeout while we eat? More for us!"

"God, I wished timeouts worked with that pair!" Don interjected. Grinning, he added, "Put us to work, Arwen. You mentioned there were still things to bring up from your place."

Smiling, the blond responded, "Final chance to move this inside, gang. Is it warm enough to eat up here? If y'all are comfortable, we need to bring up the rest of the food… assuming Olivia hasn't hidden the chocolate cake."

"I'm not greedy like George and Casey. I left you a small sliver… well, a few crumbs," the other woman joked. "And, I think it feels great up here! This will probably be the last night this warm until spring, so I say we go for it."

Moving to stand in front of her, Elliot murmured, "Chocolate cake? No wonder you're smiling so much. You have a chocolate buzz going."

Fin rolled his eyes as they watched Elliot bend down to give Olivia a gentle kiss. Trading relieved smiles with the rest of the group that Elliot was finally making his move, he teased, "Yeah, right… she's smiling about chocolate! Give me a break! But, I vote with Livvie… it's nice up here. What do we need to get? The boil will be ready in about ten or so minutes."

"Do you mind staying and keeping an eye on it, Fin? I'd ask Liv and Elliot, but…" Arwen began, a devilish grin lighting her face. "Something tells me we would be ordering pizza if we left them to watch the pot."

"Just leave me the shrimp dip and I'll avert my gaze," Fin quipped. "I'm shy and they may embarrass me if you leave us up here alone."

Chuckling, Elliot pulled Olivia up into his arms. "Better start averting, pal. We'd hate to embarrass you… though I don't think that's still possible."

"Well if you're going that route, I'll just admit I was afraid I was going to have to give you a long talking-to, since it's taken you so long to make a move! John and I were starting to question your manhood," Fin shot back.

Laughing, Cragen herded the rest of the group into the stairs to give the new couple a few minutes alone… almost alone. "You need to save that line for another time, Fin. Somehow, I don't think he heard you."

Glancing over at the entwined pair, Fin silently agreed with his captain's assessment. Turning back to the shrimp dip… and the last few crab puffs, an amused smile lit his handsome face. /Wondered if I was going to have to give both Elliot **and** John a few pointers to close their deals. Glad to see my crew still has it going on./

-----


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 13

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations   
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode

Making a Connection, Chapter 13

"This is fabulous! I can't believe how easy this was to make. Is it a family recipe?"" Olivia asked as she peeled another shrimp… only to have Elliot pop it into his mouth when she set it down to peel another. "Hey… peel your own!"

Stealing a quick kiss, he teased, "They taste even better when you peel them for me." A second peeled shrimp disappeared from her plate.

Amused by the exchange, John answered. "Seafood boils are pretty common on the coast. Each area does them a little differently, so Winnie and I put the ones we liked into this one."

"Keep calling me Winnie…" Arwen threatened, breaking into his answer.

John's smirk refused to become repentant. "The biggest difference is usually in the boiling liquid… the spices… whether or not you use beer, that sort of thing. Odd to say since it's a seafood boil, the potatoes, corn, and sausage are the only things most of them have in common."

Ben Randolph, Casey's fiancé added, "I love a good boil and this is delicious, but we do it a little differently up in Maine. I grew up near the Penobscot Bay and spent a lot of my time sailing when I was a teenager. Seafood boils are a favorite of mine."

"Olivia, Fin, and John deserve the credit, since they cooked it, but I'm glad you like it," Arwen replied. "You can do the 'down east' version for us another time, maybe."

"Count of it," the handsome blond law professor responded, going to work on a crab.

"I have the Davenport case starting next week. I'll be stuck the rest of this weekend working on my opening statement, so I needed something like this to help me relax and refocus," Casey offered, piling a second selection of the boil onto the plate she was sharing with Ben. "We always say we're going to do things like this more often, but it never seems to work out that way. Maybe you can help us remember to relax more often, Arwen… be good for all of us. Grabbing a beer after work just isn't the same."

"I'll do my best," she agreed. "I love having people over... throwing a party is my idea of relaxing."

"Question," Sally Pagani, Don's date, asked. "How do you eat a crawfish?"

Grinning, Arwen offered, "In New Orleans, they tell you to 'pinch 'de tail and suck 'da head'! Does that help?"

Laughing, the attractive brunette shook her head. "Errh… no, but thanks for the visual!"

Picking up a crawfish, Arwen demonstrated how to pop off the tail. "This is the only part I eat. My sister-in-law swears the brains are delicious, but I refuse to try! My late husband's family is from New Orleans, so they think I'm a wuss!"

"You've taken up with the Munchkin, so I doubt anyone can call you a wuss… brave or daring, maybe, but not a wuss," Elliot teased, grabbing a chuck of smoked sausage off of Olivia's plate, enjoying her playful objections as much as the delicious food.

"Both," John agreed. "Winnie made several desserts, so y'all need to save room for some."

"Y'all???" Fin pounced, a wicked gleam twinkling in his eyes. "Did you just say 'y'all'?"

Grinning down into the upturned eyes of his lover, John nodded. "Yup. Want to make something of it, partner?"

"Damn, Munchkin! You're so whipped!" Fin responded, trading an amused smirk with Cragen.

Laughing, John proudly repeated, "Yup. Want to make something of it, partner?"

"Y'all is a perfectly acceptable contraction I'll have you know," Arwen interjected, slightly embarrassed by their comments. She knew they **knew**, but they hadn't been lovers long enough for her to be this causal about it.

"So you keep telling me," John agreed, squeezing her hand under the makeshift table. "I guess you must have convinced me since I just used it. I'm willing to bet we'll have someone else saying it before much longer."

"I already do," Marisa Stevens grinned, "so it's nice to be around someone else that does. Fin teases me relentlessly about that and the southern phrases I use."

"Where's home?" John asked, glad the young woman hadn't seen the way Fin rolled his eyes at her comment She seemed sweet, if much too young for his partner. Experience with his partner's dating habits warned him this would be the only time he would bring her to one of their gatherings and that they would not be dating much longer.

"Atlanta."

"Prove it… can you give directions to your house using Peachtree?" Arwen teased.

Marisa laughed. "I did say I was from Atlanta didn't I!"

"I've been there enough times that I get that! I swear half the streets are named Peachtree something," Will Warner grinned. "Atlanta traffic can be is as bad as New York traffic some days… worse if you get caught on that damned Loop!"

Laughing, Arwen recalled, "I remember listening to a Braves game once where the starting pitcher didn't make it to the park because he got on the Loop and couldn't get off! Poor guy had just gotten his driver's license and got trapped in the far lane… was too inexperienced to force his way over to hit an off-ramp. He eventually ran out of gas and had to be rescued!"

Nodding, Ben began to chuckle. "I remember that! He must have gotten it from all sides in the locker room over that one… much like John will on Monday!"

"Muffins, Munchkin… they may be your only hope for survival," Fin taunted.

"I'll be sure George has a full breakfast before he leaves for work on Monday, John," Penny Huang offered. "That way you only have to fight off Casey and Melinda when they ambush you in the parking lot!"

"He and Fin have been talking pretty big," George insisted, focused on pulling a crab into manageable pieces to share with his wife. "Even if I don't want them right then, I'm still taking my share…"

-----

A groan proceeded, "I knew there was something we forgot to bring up with us," John complained.

Shifting slightly from her position lounging against his chest so that she could look up into his eyes, Arwen asked, "What?"

"Blankets."

"Blankets? Why blankets?"

A lazy grin lit his face. "I won't speak for anyone else, but I too stuffed to move, much less try to crawl down two flights. I think I may have to sleep up here."

Smiling fondly at the utter contentment wreathing his features, she teased, "You're still on vacation, honey, so you can sleep it off in the morning… until I drag you out of bed to help me clean up."

"I thought we agreed I only have to do what I want on my vacation," John observed, smirking at her over the top of his glasses. "Cleaning up isn't on my 'to-do' list. What's in it for me?"

"Oh, please don't go there, Munchkin!" Fin insisted, relieved to see the desperation that had been building in his best friend's spirit slipping away. "You're so not going to want to hear the answer to that one!"

Sighing dramatically, John admitted, "I guess I won't complain too much if Arwen let's me sleep late before she puts me to work."

"I'm just glad the Chief of D approved my request to let all of us have the night off without being on call," Cragen observed, eyeing the last slice of Key Lime pie. "We needed a night like this more than I realized. I doubt any of us is up to responding to a call at this point… though I think I can still manage another piece of that pie."

"You can take it home with you, Don," Arwen offered, pleased that the meal had been such a success. "Liv has marked the last of the cake as hers already."

"Looks like Livvie has plans to take all kind of goodies home with her tonight," Casey joked, noting the proprietary way she was nestled against Elliot.

"Mine, mine, mine," Olivia agreed, stretching up to kiss her main 'goodie'.

"If I bring both muffins **and** sweet rolls on Monday, I think I deserve a pass so we can all concentrate on those two," John proposed, pleased to see the uncertainty that has clung for so long to both of his friends beginning to fade. "They have it coming big time."

"You go right ahead and think that, John," Don proposed, pulling Sally a little closer to his side. Resting his chin against the petite brunette's head, he warned, "That's not going to happen, but you feel free to dream until Monday!"

"We fed you people tonight… doesn't that count for something??" John complained, too content to put much effort into his objections.

"Sure it does… we're all amazed you managed to snag a lady like Arwen," Fin retorted. "Don't screw this up, John. We may decide to keep her and toss your scrawny ass out if we ever have to make a choice. You better learn to make that shrimp dip as a fall-back if you want to have a chance."

"This is a cold group!" Will observed, dropping a kiss to the top of his wife's head.

George began to laugh. "You just discovered that, Will? I make a habit of keeping to the shadows in the squadroom to call as little attention to myself as possible. Office banter can be a blood sport for them."

"Yeah, sure you do," Elliot scoffed. "You score your share of hits, Dr. Huang! We all live in fear of drawing too much attention from our resident FBI profiler… you know just where to go to slice and dice!"

Laughing, Arwen forced herself to her feet, drawing grumbles from John when she left his arms. "No slicing and dicing tonight, any of you!"

Walking over to the CD player, she began to sort through the discs, looking for one to play. "I think we need a little dancing to get us moving again. What do you say to John and me showing you how to Shag?"

Sputters of laughter greeted her question… as she had expected. Fin called out, "Just what type of party is this, Arwen? We're cops, so we might have to raid ourselves if that happens!"

Smirking, John rose and sauntered over to join Arwen. "Get your mind out of the gutter, Tutuola. The Shag is a dance."

"You expect us to move… much less be light on our feet after feeding us that feast?" Casey complained, sifting more fully into Ben's embrace. "I think John was right about the blankets. I need a nap!"

"The Shag… that's danced to oldies, right?" Don asked, an intrigued look accompanying the question.

"Some of the music is oldies, but it has to have a particular beat and rhythm for shagging… usually a 4/4 blues shuffle," Arwen answered. "The music is usually called beach music because it's associated with the beaches of the Carolinas. The first exposure to R&B for many white teens in the fifties and early sixties… not just southern teens, but kids from all over, was during vacations along the Grand Strand. They heard the music being played, saw the dancing, and fell in love with both. Beach music and shagging helped break down a lot of barriers in the day."

Don nodded, a faraway smile on his face. "I remember going to Myrtle Beach once when I was a kid for a family vacation… my parents has scrimped all year long to afford it. My dad and I were out walking on the boardwalk one afternoon and heard music coming from a dive overlooking the beach. We looked inside and there were all these couples dancing to music like I'd never heard before. I loved it and was hooked on R&B from then on, but I hadn't made the beach connection until now."

Pulling Sally to her feet, he demanded, "Show us. I've always wanted to dance like those couples."

The beat of the Embers, "60 Minute Man", drifted out across the roof top as John swept Arwen to him and they began to dance. Within minutes, the entire group was up learning the smooth, sexy shuffle of the Shag. The Shag gave way to slow dances… partners nestled close with frequent lazy kisses shared and a much needed release of the tension the preceding week settled over the group.

-----

"You're coming up, aren't you?"

Elliot switched off the car engine and turned to face his companion. Reaching over to cup her face, he held her gaze as he asked, "Are you sure you're ready for us to become lovers, baby? If you want to take things a little slower and…"

A strangled laugh left her throat as Olivia tugged his head over to hers. "Are you insane? How much slower can we take things than eight years???"

Breaking the kiss, Elliot rested his forehead against hers. "I just meant…"

"Elliot… get your ass in gear and get upstairs before I jump you here in the car!"

A wicked grin proceeded, "Whatever you say, Det. Benson. I live to serve!"

Chuckling, Olivia pulled away and opened the passenger door. "So you say. Prove it!"

-----

Struggling to calm her racing heart, Olivia breathed. "Damn! You do honor to that badge you're wearing, Detective Stabler. You rose to the occasion admirably."

Turning his head to meet her twinkling gaze, Elliot smirked. "Next time can we try not wearing the badge? Clothes get in the way of my best work!"

-----


	14. Chapter 14 Epilogue

Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 14

Author: Sorsha711  
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E  
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations  
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!  
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so **Spoiler warnings** if you've not see that episode. Please R&R!!!

Making a Connection, Chapter 14 --- Epilogue

-----

Elliot held the door for Olivia while scanning the interior of the small coffee shop for their friends. Spotting John and Arwen at a table next to the front window, he waved before offering, "I'll grab our coffee while you rescue those two chairs from that guy that's hassling with John for them. You want your usual?"

"Sounds good. And get me something sweet… muffin, danish," Olivia added, beginning to weave her way through the tangle of tables and chairs.

Chuckling, he called out, "I'm not sweet enough for you anymore?"

Cutting her eyes in his direction, she retorted, "I don't think John and Arwen would approve of my nibbling on you while I drink my coffee, so I need a danish to tide me over."

Turning her head in time to catch John rolling his eyes at her comment, she ignored him and greeted the woman sitting close to his side. "Hi Arwen. Get the boys off to school?"

Rising to accept her hug, the blonde nodded. "Dan left last weekend for Ithaca and Rob went back to Durham on Wednesday. My place is so quiet without them… even though they stayed at John's over the break. He let them use it over Thanksgiving and they headed there when they came back for Christmas like it was a given."

"I scored big with them for that." Shaking his head in amusement, John added, "We've been talking about finding a renter for my place… maybe selling it since I spend all my time at Arwen's and the guys started grumbling about losing 'their' flat. I think they like being close to their mom but having a place of their own… more freedom and a little distance from the unsettling fact there is a man in their mom's bed! God forbid they should find us making out on the couch… or worse!!!"

Grinning wickedly, Arwen recalled, "Well, we did give them reason to be leery of that happening! I think their Uncle Paul was the one that was the most scandalized. Angie and Mama Rose took it in stride… for the most part."

"You missed the 'man-to-man' I had with them when you and the others ladies went Christmas shopping," John confessed, pretending to shudder at the memory. "I was warned they would 'tear my skinny body into tiny bits' if I hurt you. Good thing they seem to like me or I hate to think of what they would have done!"

Staring up at him, Arwen asked, "They threatened you! Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Grinning, John traded a look with Elliot. "It was a guy thing. They were only putting me on warning, not really threatening me. If they meant it… well, it would have been different."

"A guy thing?" she demanded, watching the amused expressions on both men's faces with some amazement.

"Give it up, Arwen. When they say 'it's a guy thing', they mean they know it won't make any sense to a woman because it's illogical." Sighing, Olivia admitted, "I wish Elliot's kids were as accepting of me as Arwen's are of you, John. From what I could see, you seemed to be bonding with them pretty well when we came over for Thanksgiving dinner and at Christmas."

"Give them time, Liv," John urged, relieved that she was right about his relationship with Arwen's sons. "They have known you for years as their Dad's partner, so this change must be a little unsettling."

Setting a cup of coffee and a cherry danish in front of her, Elliot echoed John's observations as he took his seat. "They like you, honey. Give them a little time to come to grips with our being together. You know they probably overheard me and Kathy arguing before the split… and she regularly accused us of having an affair. I think they know that wasn't true, but… give them a little time."

"Yeah, I know," Olivia agreed, squeezing his hand where it lay on the table near her own. "So, am I right about you and the boys, John?"

"I think so… but you better ask their Mom," John replied, looking to his right to catch Arwen's gaze. "I may be fooling myself."

"You know they like you, sweetie," Arwen replied, snuggling under the arm he draped over her shoulders. "Dan and Rob were toddlers when their dad died, so it's not the same situation as it is for Liv and Elliot. Frankly, they're relieved we're together. They were worried about me being alone… especially now that they will be finishing college in a few years and moving out on their own."

"'a few years'? I thought they were in their junior year in college," Elliot observed. "I take it that means they both plan to go for their Masters… wait, Rob's pre-med, right? He still has med school and internships ahead of him."

"Yeah," the proud mother agreed. "He's already applied for pre-admission to Duke's Medical School and has been accepted. If Rob keeps his GPA close to where it is now, he'll get full financial aid. That's a relief!"

"What about Dan?" Olivia asked, quickly polishing off her 'public' sweet… eyeing the cinnamon bun sitting in front of Elliot.

Smiling as he watched her steal a big bite of the pastry, John inserted, "He'll graduate next December, a semester early. He's applying for Grad school all over the country and in Europe. The University of Edinburgh accepted him and he is leaning toward going there rather than Columbia or Harvard. Arwen is already freaking out at the thought of him going somewhere that far away, but she's about to bust from pride that they have both done so well."

Nodding, Elliot announced, "Kathleen has been accepted to St. Joseph's with a full pass. Her mom and I are both sleeping a little easier since she accepted. She had other offers, but that was the only one that had a full scholarship attached. Her grades were pretty good, but she's finally getting why we harped on them so much and is wishing she had made a bigger effort. She could have been as straight-A student with a little more work… same with Maureen. Elizabeth and Dickie seem to be getting it though. Both have been on the honor roll since third grade."

"Congratulations about Kathleen!" Arwen responded. "That's a great school! What's her major?"

"Pre-law… she wants to become an ADA like Casey. Case is her hero," Olivia inserted. "She's hoping to go to Hudson for law school. I think she may have a little crush on Ben."

"Does Casey know?" John asked, amused by the thought.

"Hell, yes… to both," Elliot admitted. "Kathleen asked to shadow her one day and hasn't stopped talking about them since. Casey, bless her, has taken Kathleen under her wing and has become her mentor. Kathy is relieved… she was worried she would become a cop like me."

"Well, your first two want to be a teacher and a lawyer, so that must make you both happy," John observed. "And, Kathleen wants to be an ADA, not some sleazebag defense attorney that helps the scum we arrest get off on a technicality."

"I'd say we all have a lot to be grateful for," Arwen observed, cutting her eyes up at John, "Except for the fact John is warping my baby."

Grinning, Olivia demanded, "What have you done now?"

Chuckling, Arwen offered, "Rob found John's cache of conspiracy books over Thanksgiving and started reading them. They bonded over JFK and Roswell! I think Dan left early so he could escape their debates."

Chucking at the smug look on John's face, Elliot teased, "I feel for you and Dan! Munchkin has been subjecting us to his rants for years!"

Tilting his head to study his companions with his trademark over-the-glasses smirk, John retorted, "It's my duty to encourage the younger generation to question authority… demand answers!"

Settling back to let the other three have fun with that comment, John took a moment to reflect on just how much all their lives had changed in a year. He had been sitting in this very coffee shop less than a year earlier, lonely and despondent, when a pretty blonde had found her way to a table near the one he routinely occupied. His first sight of her had been like an electric charge through his system. For weeks afterwards, John had come to the shop hoping to see her… hoping to start a conversation.

Taking a sip of his coffee, he admitted to himself/I had such modest hopes… a conversation with someone that seemed to read as much as I do… that might share some of my interests. If that went well, maybe dinner… a periodic companion to break the monotony of my life. I'm not sure I even let myself hope for a lover./

/A lover… I had no idea what that could really mean,/ he mused, subconsciously tightening his hold on Arwen's shoulders. /I was almost to the breaking point when I found Winnie… or she found me. A miracle… it had to be./

Their time together had slowly eased a lot of his fears; he had finally come to realize she needed him as much as he did her… though in ways more subtle and less. Arwen had long since convinced him they belonged together. They completed each other, made each other whole. And all that began with a cup of coffee, a friendly place to read and watch the people that drifted in and out of the small shop… the desire to make a connection.

-----

A/N --- Thanks so much to all of you that have followed this story! I promise this isn't the last you'll read of Arwen and John… of Elliot and Olivia in this storyline. Both couples still have a lot of challenges and milestones to face… after all, making the connection is only the first part of any relationship!

And let's not forget Fin!!! I have big plans for him… that will start in the first sequel to this story, _Unexpected_. I'll start posting it later this week.

Thanks again!!!


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